Three Generations of Honkies

Avery goes with a friend to an awkward family event, only to find himself enchanted by her father, brother and oldest nephew! They’re a trio of hunky studs who just might let Avery swing on their alpha honky meat… as long as the other two don’t know about it!

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Avery lay awoke most of the night. He was dreading tomorrow — it was Thanksgiving, and he planned on spending it with his friend Lenore. That would have been fine on its own. But her family would be there too, and that promised to be awkward. The prospect of meeting who-even-knows how many new people made the whole thing seem like an obligation. It seemed like no big deal when she asked last month if he wanted to come. Her family might be fun, he thought.
And now he had to spend all day with them.
Lenore had not had a relationship with her family until earlier this year, due to an acrimonious divorce that led to her brother siding with her father and Lenore siding with her mother. That was why she had practically begged Avery to come along: Lenore didn’t want to be alone. So he tried not to sulk as he trundled off to her car early in the morning on Thanksgiving. He was sleepy, and he already he was failing to come up with any smalltalk.
He remained quiet the entire way to Citrus Heights, California. Lenore was quiet too, either nervous or just listening to the jazz on the radio. He was half-asleep anyway. By the time they pulled into the parking lot, however, Avery was already starting to brighten up.
Lenore’s mother had passed away a few years ago, and her father, Woody, had reverted to his bachelor ways after his divorce. He was an ex-Army officer with a tattoo of his unit on his belly — a fact that Avery saw when Lenore opened the door and Woody stood there in his boxers, hand at his crotch, scratching his balls. His arms flexed and his pecs rippled as though scratching his nutsack through his raggedy-ass boxer shorts took all of his muscles.
That was how the Thanksgiving began: Lenore screeching, and Woody blearily-eyed glaring at his daughter as his dick flopped out through the fly of his boxers. It was meaty and thick, and it flopped like an uncooked sausage. Woody was a barrel-chested man, his fuzzy fur tinged with gray, his head bald but shaved as well — shaved haphazardly, obviously without the use of a mirror, with slightly longer patches here and there around the sides of his scalp. A mustard stain on his boxers accentuated the bulge of his cock after he casually tucked it away again.
“Dad! Ohmigod, you are humiliating me! Ohmigod! Is this what you do? You hang out in your underpants?! Was Mom the only reason you ever put on pants?”
“Mornin’, sweetcake.”
“Go put some clothes on, Dad!”
He just rolled his eyes and hugged her, much to her chagrin. He shook Avery’s hand. Woody had thick fingers and a muscular grip. He squeezed Avery confidently. He winked too.
Avery blushed, and he looked Woody’s chest up and down. He was furry and broad and strapping, and he smelled a little of sweat, like he had been working out recently, or had simply not showered. Or both. Avery didn’t mind. He appreciated the male aroma.
“Dad, I can tell you cleaned up, but you should have done the baseboards-“
“Sweetcake,” Woody grunted. “It looks fine-“
“I know, but I’ll just get a sponge-“
Again, Woody rolled his eyes. His ass swayed in his boxers as he followed after his daughter, arguing. Avery stayed there at the door to watching his shoulder muscles flex. Again, Avery got the impression he shook his ass for Avery’s benefit. His cheeks were full to bursting out of those paper-thin boxer shorts. The mustard stain looked to have harmed the already cheap fabric, that may be why his cock slipped out.
Where do alphas even find that kind of boxer shorts? So thin you can almost see through them like wet tissue paper. Avery’s dick twitched. He wondered if Lenore had told him she was bringing a friend. He hadn’t seemed surprised to see a stranger.
The rest of the family would be coming soon, and the house was not ready. Avery chuckled under his breath at the sound of Lenore squealing at the realization that her father had still not put on any pants.
“Of course you have to baste it, Dad! Nigella Lawson said it!” She came back into the living room. Avery busied himself by putting the cords, remote controls and DVDs out by the TV all into a stack. That was productive and helpful, he thought; he only wished Lenore had seen him do it. She stormed past with a sponge and an all-purpose cleaner. “Dad! Go put pants on! You have to wear pants to Thanksgiving!”
“You’re as bad as your mother,” he said with a grin. His eyes glanced to Avery, then up the stairs. He scratched his chest casually, but his hand lingered over his nipple, and his pecs bounced.
“Did you need some help picking out an outfit, Mister Myrtle?” Avery asked. He was now certain Woody was hot to trot.
She was awfully insistent I come up here. I bet she knew her dad wanted a piece of male tail on the side. Oh she’s a sly hag… Avery stared daggers at her as he followed Woody up the stairs. He didn’t mind her bringing him as a sort of a toy to keep her father satisfied, but Avery wished she had told him. What if Woody had been fat? That would have been awkward.
“Call me Woody, hoss. Yeah, uh, what color ain’t ya supposed to wear after Labor Day?” Woody asked as they ascended the stairs.
“That’s white, darling,” Avery said. “Nobody wears white to Thanksgiving.” They were up the stairs now. He pulled down Woody’s white boxers to reveal a chunky hairy ass, all muscle and meat and fur. Woody chuckled and stepped out of his boxers without missing a beat. Avery kissed one of his cheeks there in the hall at the top of the stairs. Myrtle fussed over some dumb girlish shit downstairs.
“Damn, boy, did she bring you just to keep me from getting too ornery?”
“A hostess should provide someone to service macho military guys at family gatherings. That’s in Emily Post. Your daughter is a thoughtful girl,” Avery said. “You get jacked off by guys a lot?”
He grunted. “You a take-a-shower-before kinda fruitcake or a take-a-shower-after fruitcake?”
“After.” Avery blushed and laughed. Obviously, he thought, that was a yes: guys who weren’t jacked off by other dudes often would never have known there were those who preferred both showered and unshowered men.
“Gotcha.” He went into the bedroom and flopped onto his bed, which was covered in dirty socks and tee shirts with sweat stains. The bed was unmade, but Avery thought no one actually slept here — Woody probably slept on the couch downstairs most nights. He looked like the drift-off-to-sleep-drunk-on-the-couch kind of divorced man. He flopped his limp dick between his fingers. “Man, in boot camp there was this fellah right off base who’d jack off any soldier who needed it. They just be lining up outside his condo, twirlin’ they dicks in they hands.”
“I bet.”
“But I ain’t mess around with him. The female tail was plentiful back then. It wasn’t till I got assigned to this base in central Alaska, then there wasn’t no females around except this one swishy Indian fella with lips like silk — what are you waiting for?” He snorted and chuckled. “My daughter is gonna come in anytime, demanding I alphabetize my potatoes or something, calling my spice rack racist. So let’s get this done, we might not have much time.” He slapped Avery in the cheek with his dick as Avery leaned over the bed to put it in his mouth. He groaned and scooted closer to the edge.
The doorbell rang. Avery heard more family coming in, and Lenore talking a mile a minute, seemingly apologizing for the state of the house. He slathered Woody’s dick with spit, as it firmed up in his mouth.
“You wanna hit it deep, baby?” Avery asked when it was hard. He rubbed Woody’s cock against his cheeks and chased it with his tongue, teasing Woody by blowing on the wetness on his shaft and making Woody’s whole body shake.
“Ah, man… if a woman asked me that, swear to God, I’d propose to her on the spot,” Woody said with a sigh. He closed his eyes, gripped Avery by the ear and slammed his dick all the way down. “Ah, shit…” Woody moaned.
Normally Avery would try to slow down something like this. Alphas tried to be slow and gentle with women because women demanded it, and men (sometimes) wanted a long-term relationship with them. But that didn’t apply to Avery. So it was up to him to slow his men down or else they’d just dagger his throat like jackrabbits and be done in mere moments.
Today, however, Avery didn’t want to slow down. He sometimes enjoyed letting men really have free reign over his throat, letting them plow into him deeply and letting their balls slap against his chin. He adjusted and loosened his neck to allow every inch of Woody’s cock in there.
“Goddamn, man, hell yeah…” Woody’s throaty voice rang out in Avery’s ear. He held on tight to Avery’s head, but he didn’t sodomize his throat in an aggressive or mean way like some guys. He ground his cock deeply, shaking it, moving his hips and ass in little circles like he needed to make love to every inch of Avery’s spasming throat.
When loud gurgling and sputtering sounds came from Avery’s mouth, Woody warmly shushed him. “Sssssh, it’s okay, boy, I’m cummin’ now, just keep it open for a minute more. You gonna get a good taste in just a sec…” His voice degenerated into a baritone rumble as an orgasm rippled over his hairy chest. He held his breath, keeping Avery’s head impaled on his cock, which spasmed and pulsated in Avery’s neck. Avery’s tongue throbbed against the veiny underside of his dick, where Avery could feel the juices flowing from his balls.
Cum flowed down Avery’s throat. It was creamy and warm and delicious, and he guzzled every drop. He maintained eye contact with Woody the whole time too. Most straight guys closed their eyes when they came in a man’s mouth, so Avery enjoyed Woody’s shocked expression as he orgasmed.
“Shit, boy, goddamn! If I had you back in boot camp, I’d have never bothered hooking up wit’ females,” Woody said with a laugh, shaking his ass beneath Avery’s grasp to make the last few drops of cum slide down Avery’s gullet.
Then, when it was over, Avery sat back and grinned, wiping his face off. Woody’s jaw hung open and he licked his lips. He chuckled, a throaty laugh like a moist mummy, and he wiped his hand through his chest hair. Avery smacked his lips and played with the sensitive, limpening shaft of Woody’s cock.
“Hmmm… Thanks,” Avery said.
“I should be thankin’ you.” He had a low throaty chuckle. “Thank you.” He wiped his dick off with some paper towels. “My son and grandsons are downstairs. And daughter-in-law.” He sighed like he wished his daughter-in-law wasn’t here. “Make sure you don’t let on what we done up here. The younger generations don’t get it.”
Avery mimed zipping his lips shut, then Woody took a quick shower while Avery chose an outfit for him. His cleanest pants were camo, but Avery found a tolerable pair of khakis. They were dirt-colored anyway, so the dirt stains didn’t show. Avery heard the family greeting each other downstairs. A child was in the mix. That was good, he thought, an excellent distraction.
Sure enough, the child — Jason — Woody’s youngest grandson — occupied everyone’s attention. Avery went downstairs met Lenore’s brother Mack, his wife Vanessa and their adult sons Rowan and Shaw, along with, of course, the young one, Mack’s and Vanessa’s five year old Jason. They all watched Jason play with trucks and lose counting games on his mother’s iPad.
Soon, however, conversation became stilted. Everyone watched Jason play like he was a panda at the zoo. Avery tried to make a few jokes, but no one seemed interested in laughing. The dull as drainage Thanksgiving was only ended with a fight breaking out among the brothers.
“You shouldn’t let Jason use the iPad so much,” said Rowan, instantly starting off an argument between him and his brother Shaw. They were both late teens, Rowan just eighteen but Shaw nearly twenty. They both hovered over their nephew, who ignored them, deeply hypnotized by the iPad in his grubby little mitts.
“Just let him play, you loser-“
“It’s bad for him.”
“You’re such a pretentious twat-” Shaw smacked Rowan, who smacked him back.
As Woody came down the stairs in a button-down shirt and dirt-colored khakis, he said, “Hey, you boys knock it off-!”
“Get outta my way!”
“He’s been beggin’ for this for years, I’m gonna kick the moron right out of his brain!”
Avery wanted nothing to do with what was soon to be a fistfight. He did like the men. Woody, his son Mack and Mack’s adult sons Shaw and Rowan. He appreciated the male form, and all four of the Myrtle men had admirable physiques in their own ways. Shaw was handsome and sort of squarish, broad and ox-like, yet clean-cut and dimpled like a new golf ball. Rowan was cute in a skinny basement-dwelling nerd way, not unattractive, as he was a soccer player in good shape, you could just tell he spent most of his non-soccer time playing Minecraft or something dumb like that.
“You piece of shit! Car thief!”
“Oh, now you’re bringing up the Toyota again?! Just get over it, Rowan!”
Shaw was tall and wide-shouldered, with deep dimples and charming green eyes. He was outgoing, with the smarmy charisma of a third-rate politician. After the fight with his brother, he went into the kitchen, where Lenore ignored the fighting and focused on basting the turkey in the oven. When she stood up to explain why her father’s favorite spice blend’s brand and mascot were racist, Shaw belched.
“Oh my god, that was so disgusting, get out of here!” She scowled at her nephew, and he instantly returned to the living room, where Rowan was still fuming about the car Shaw had “stolen”. As Avery settled in with a glass of cider (sadly, it was soft cider), Rowan and Shaw resumed their earlier fight, which was itself a resumption of a previous fight. Little Jason watched and aimlessly banged his trucks together.
“Fight back, pussy!” Shaw and Rowan bumped chests.
“Lay off!” Rowan pushed him to the ground.
“C’mon, fight me! You know you can’t!”
They both wrestled, knocking over the coat-rack by the door and a lamp. Avery backed up out of the way, putting him close to Mack, who picked up Jason and put him on the stairs so he wouldn’t be trampled. Avery felt Mack’s body heat. Mack ignored him, dourly watching his sons fight. He had ceased trying to stop it.
Avery caught Mack’s eye and beckoned as though he needed help with something private. He sort of swept Mack up to nudge him to come along. Mack went with him, and the roar of the battle in the living room went quiet when they went into the garage and shut the door.
“Thanks so for much for your help,” Avery said. He had manipulated Mack with body language and confidence, so Mack realized as he walked into the garage that he didn’t know why he was here.
“What did you need help with?”
“Oh… nothing too difficult,” Avery said. He grinned. “I have a feeling you’d like to get a nut off. Is that right?”
“Shit, hoss, always!” Mack said with a cackle and a whoop.
“So how about I bend over and you plow my ass hard?”
Get off me, Shaw! I’ll kick your ass!
“Oh, damn… Oh…” Mack’s cocky demeanor vanished. He was momentarily nervous. Then he took a deep breath. “Hot damn. Uh, okay…” He paused. “You can’t tell my dad. He’d kick my ass.”
Avery rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.
Mack took a deep breath. “Man… It’s no big deal, just so you know. You’re not my first.” He blushed until his cheeks were the color of cherries. “I, uh… Back in college, my frat had this scavenger hunt thing I had to do, and uh…” He chuckled and blushed. “I was just… It was on my list, and I had to do it, that’s all-“
“You don’t need to explain,” Avery said. He smiled. “Come on, let’s go. If you wanna stick it in me, you gotta stop talking.”
Pulling his own pants down, Mack sat sideways on a riding lawnmower, so he faced Avery. A big dick popped out of his underwear. Avery went for it with his mouth. He planted his lips right on it, and there was a twitch immediately as it flickered into life.
A gasp escaped from Mack’s lips, though he tried to look confident. He was also excessively concerned about noise — his sons still fought in the house, which was much too loud for anyone to hear Mack’s heavy breathing from the garage. But he jumped every time there was a noise, like when Shaw and Rowan knocked stuff over in the living room.
“Hey! That’s enough!” Woody was getting involved now, and Mack pursed his lips shut tightly because the house was suddenly silent. He threw his head back and let out a soundless moan, his open mouth hanging agape, tongue lolling out.
Soon Mack’s dick was hard, and it throbbed as it leaked precum down Avery’s throat. Avery licked the shaft, tracing the trail of the vein that ran up and down the underside of it. Mack let out a long, low-rumbling moan.
“You’re gonna stick it in me too, right?” Avery said because it looked like Mack was planning on cumming like this.
Mack chortled. He removed his baseball cap, ran his fingers through his hair, then put it back. “I dunno, hoss…”
Avery said. “That’s what you agreed to. You wanna back out?”
“No! I just… Just keep your voice down,” Mack said, even though he was the one who was loud.
Avery just kissed Mack on the cocktip, slathering spit on his shaft. “Are you ready ?” Before he gave Mack a chance to answer, Avery got down on his knees and sucked the sweat off Mack’s balls.
Mack gasped and writhed. His muscles all flexed, and he wanted to let out a shout but couldn’t because the family in the living room was being quiet now. They’d hear.
His balls were heavy and full, and Avery loved savoring them. Ballsacs always had such an intense flavor that brought tears to Avery’s eyes as he gurgled and choked on them. That was loud, but only in the immediate vicinity of the lawnmower on which Mack still sat. Mack remained paranoid though, alternating between shushing Avery and loudly gasping nervously.
“I can’t believe this is gonna be my first time putting it up the butt,” Mack said, his voice quavering as Avery pulled off his balls and stroked his dick with one hand. Avery turned around and aimed his ass for Mack’s crotch. Mack sighed. “Girls always say it’s gross. Chicks are all cockteases.”
“Yeah. You should totally stick your dick in dudes instead,” Avery said as he lowered himself onto Mack’s cock.
“You’re not really an unbiased advisor…” Mack said with a chuckle. He leaned way back, like he didn’t want to touch Avery’s body any more than necessary.
That meant it was up to Avery to do most of the actual movement here. He backed his ass up, grimacing at the intense pressure that ate up his focus. He grunted and gritted his teeth. This was especially awkward because Mack just sat there on the lawnmower, watching as Avery struggled to keep his ass in position — he had to kneel over and raise his ass as high as he could make it go.
Avery was just about to tell Mack they needed to try a different position when his ass finally loosened. A loud sigh emanated from deep in Avery’s precum-lubed throat. Mack sighed too, in shock as a surge of pleasure shot up his spine.
“Goddamn, man… Remember my dad can’t find out,” Mack said, his voice wavering like he was on the verge of tears. He whispered even though the TV was on in the living room, drowning out all other potential sounds. There was no way anyone in there could hear unless they stood with their ears literally on the garage door.
Mack’s fingers gingerly gripped Avery’s hips. Mack’s eyes opened wide, and his mouth was agape once more. He couldn’t believe how good this felt. He had hoped it might feel like a woman’s pussy, but he was shocked that it felt so much better. Mack blushed and writhed beneath Avery’s body.
He was so impassioned and aroused that he grabbed Avery’s hips, forgetting that he was trying not to touch Avery any more than absolutely necessary. He held onto Avery’s body and guided him up and down, even as his mind told him not to, that this was too weird.
Mack sighed. If his buddies ever found out about this, he’d never hear the end of it. And if his father found out? As Mack reached a potent orgasm, he was filled with terror that his dad would come in right now and see him — he’d tease Mack about it forever.
But Mack couldn’t help but respond as an incredible orgasm flowed through him. He’d never felt like this. He pounded on his muscular chest and threw his head back with such force that his backwards baseball cap fell off, landing on the lawnmower beneath him.
“Shit, man!” Mack shouted, finally loud enough that people in the living room could have heard it.
Cum flowed into Avery’s ass, great gobs of it that filled him up. Since he was on top, it ran out and down his leg onto the floor of the garage. Avery shot his own wad, but most of it ended up in the body of the lawnmower.
Their orgasm continued for what felt like forever. Mack had never experienced anything like this, but it was old hat for Avery. He let out a long, cringing moan, then leaned back and rubbed his face against Mack’s well-muscled chest.
“Hmmm…” Avery murmured into Mack’s muscular arms, which wrapped around him as both men finished their climaxes and cum seeped out of Avery’s ass onto the floor of the garage and the side of the lawnmower.
They both fell back, limp and exhausted. Avery stretched his weary legs. He didn’t want to leave just yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before their absences were noted. Avery pulled his pants up and kissed Mack on the neck.
“Thanks,” Mack said. Avery gave him the two hundred dollars he had promised.
“You’re welcome,” Avery said.
Avery went back out to the living room — leaving Mack to breathe heavily and recover in the garage — where he watched little Jason be cute for awhile with the other males. But they were mostly watching a football game, not the kid. Avery quickly lost interest because he hated football. The only part of football he considered exciting was the men — sometimes you could catch a glimpse of their jockstraps. But he wasn’t having much luck with that today, and the menfolk were boring, silently watching the game. The fight between Rowan and Shaw seemed to have ended. They now sat next to each other quietly, meanmugging.
So Avery went into the kitchen to see how Thanksgiving dinner was progressing.
It was, except for the turkey being undercooked and then accidentally dropped on the floor, done.
The women — Lenore and Vanessa, Mack’s wife (and therefore Lenore’s sister-in-law) — had knocked it off the table when a fight began mere seconds before Avery walked in the door. He stood there dumbfounded for a moment, watching the fight and struggling to process what he saw. He’d known Lenore for a long time, and she had never been the type to get into a slapfight.
“Don’t you dare talk about my son!”
“You filthy bitch, you turned my brother into a douche, and you’re trying to raise my nephews to be just as bad!”
“You’re not even a mother, you don’t get to criticize how I raise my son!”
They both tried to hit each other. A loud smacking sound rang out, but Avery couldn’t tell who had made a good hit and who hadn’t. Both women erupted in shouting and insults. Avery was still too shocked to respond right away.
Finally, Avery grabbed Vanessa and pulled her off Lenore just as the kitchen filled with the rest of the menfolk. They were all dumbfounded by the eruption of anger, and even Jason stayed silent and still, hugging his father’s leg.
“You elitist whore!” Lenore screamed. “Just because you’re so vain and self-obsessed as to spend nine hundred dollars on shoes, doesn’t mean I have to!”
“Oh I’m sorry, I don’t steal my shoes from the funerals of obese spinsters,” Vanessa said with a haughty glance at Lenore’s clunky brown shoes.
“You sticky-cunted bitch!”
“I’ll rip your goddamn eyes out!”
Mack stepped forward to intervene. He left his son behind to stand between the two. He put his hands up and said something that Avery couldn’t hear because of the loud shouting of the women.
Avery thought he was being the only responsible one in the room by grabbing little Jason by the hand and taking him out. Woody had the same idea at the same time though, and he scooped Jason up in his arms.
“Grandpa! What are they saying?”
“Nevermind them, they ain’t actin’ like adults,” Woody said. He and Avery went with Jason out to the backyard. Once the door was closed and they couldn’t hear the fight anymore, Avery felt a lot better. He was just about ready for this Thanksgiving to be over.
“No one fights like family,” Avery said, a little awkwardly — he didn’t know what else to say. Jason stood among a bucket of toy cars he had brought to the house. He was outside, and he seemed to realize he was supposed to play with those toys. But he didn’t know how or was too stressed by the fight to do so. Avery cleared his throat as he sat down with Jason and his toys, getting him started. “The turkey is not edible.”
“Yeah… I’ll do something about it.” Woody said. He called in an order for pizza, and then poked his head back inside. “”Hey y’all, hey! Hey! Shut the fuck up for a second! Hey! I ordered a pizza since you dicks have ruined everything. Y’all better pay, and you better give a good tip cuz it’s a holiday.” He slammed the door shut before anyone could respond. He looked at Avery. “It has been a hell of a day.”
“Gotta love your family…” Avery with a wry grin. Now that the fight was over and Avery had played with Jason’s toy cars, Jason had lost his inhibitions — he showed Avery how he was “doing it wrong”, then started playing on his own. Soon the fight faded to a dull roar, and Jason seemed to have forgotten about it.
He thought he was alone, but at some point, Shaw came into the living room.
“Look…” Shaw leaned in and whispered in Avery’s ear. “I need some booty, man… I’ll… give you a reacharound if you let me take you in the garage and plow into you until your asshole falls off.”
Avery sighed and squirmed as Shaw’s hand roamed over his back lightly. Then they both hurried — without walking quickly because people in the house could have been looking — to the garage. Once they got in without being seen, Shaw groaned.
“I knew I ain’t wanna have no Thanksgiving, what a pain! And we won’t even get to eat none of that turkey,” Shaw said as he dropped his pants. He scoffed. “Only pizza place open today is shitty as hell. Vonelli’s, man, fuckin’ awful.” He flopped his limp dick between his legs. “C’mon, hurry up. I’ve been waitin’ for food all day, and I am not missing that pizza.”
It all only took a minute or two for Avery to have his pants around his ankles and for Shaw to jam his still-limp dick into Avery’s ass. He stiffened up, rubbing his cock between his asscheeks. It all happened so quickly that Avery still wasn’t quite ready. His knees remained sore from getting plowed — right here in this garage, on the lawnmower against which Shaw leaned now — earlier, and this was all happening so fast.
“Damn, you’re… in a hurry,” Avery said with a chuckle. Then he bit his lip. Shaw’s cock slammed into him, and he grunted loudly. Avery squirmed and gasped. “Shit!”
“Shush…” Shaw snorted and sighed moistly, the sound resonating in Avery’s ears as he worked himself back on Shaw’s dick. Shaw’s hands roamed over his torso and shoulders, holding Avery in place. He drilled his dick in bit by bit.
“Shit, don’t let my dad or grandpa know about this,” Shaw said. He inhaled deeply of the scent of Avery’s face. “And especially not this.” He gripped Avery’s dick.
Avery was so shocked he couldn’t respond as pangs of pleasure shot through him — he would have never thought someone like Shaw would give him a reacharound. He was pinned between Shaw and the wall, which he clawed at and gasped into.
His hand fumbled with Avery’s cock crudely. It was obvious he had little experience with this. In Shaw’s fraternity, there had been a “rule” that was oft-mentioned: you can cornhole your assigned pledge, but you have to give him a reacharound. Having been on both sides of that equation, Shaw had few inhibitions about it now. Jacking Avery off didn’t even feel any different than jacking himself off, except that he got to plow into Avery’s tight ass at the same time.
An orgasm hit Avery first. He writhed beneath Shaw’s arms and cried out. The most exquisite bliss flowed through his veins as cum flowed into his ass and Shaw sighed into his ear.
“Shit, goddamn,” Shaw said with a sigh. “Thanks, man, I needed that.” The last few drops of cum filled up Avery’s ass.
“Yeah, me too,” Avery said. Shaw kept going, moaning right into Avery’s ear, which he nibbled on too as he gyrated his hips. That turned his cumload into a big frothy mess that dripped down Avery’s legs.
“Hey Grandpa! Pizza’s here! Where’s your wallet?”
“Shaw, c’mon! Pizza!”
“Where’s Avery?”
Shaw moaned, his voice breaking. He swore and slapped Avery’s asscheek as he pulled out. His last few jets of jizz spurted over Avery’s back. “Fuckin’ hell,” he said.
“Shaw!”
“I’m coming!” he shouted, then he laughed. He spoke more quietly. “Or rather… I just came.”
Avery sighed and sat on the cold cement floor of the garage. “You go ahead. I gotta recover. Thanks for lettin’ me come to your house for Thanksgiving,” he said with a bashful smile. He wiped his ass clean with a rag from the garage. “Your family has been gracious hosts.”

The Construction Worker

Avery likes to hang out near a construction site, so he can service whichever alpha needs a nut after work. When one older worker comes to him, Avery is eager to help him out by relieving his relentless stiffy!

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Elton George virtually sprinted out of the construction site. He tried to slow himself down, to match his coworkers, because he didn’t want to look like a little boy when school just let out. Some of them strode slowly as though it didn’t matter.
Indeed, it didn’t matter. The construction site was miles from the city, there was nothing around here, no place to run to, no reason to hurry. Running didn’t get you home any quicker. They had to wait for the bus. Jambone Construction paid for the charter bus to bring them to and from the construction site every day. So Elton knew they had some twenty minutes, maybe more, to wait for the bus.
“You nasty! You so nasty!”
“She was fuckin’ fat! You should-a saw it when she got outta her car, man, the whole thing lifted up like six inches, and it wheezed like my dad gettin’ outuva chair-“
“You yungin’s don’t even know, the fattest cat is the baddest pussy,” said Cooter, who let out a crass wheezing laugh. Everyone else joined in laughing with him — or maybe at him, or a bit of both. Elton couldn’t decide. Cooter was the oldest one here. The other workers were all in their mid to late twenties, but Cooter was well past fifty years old.
And he wasn’t even in charge of the work-crew. Elton would be ashamed if he was that old and he was still just a construction worker.
“Oh, there’s that creep.”
They all got quiet as they got close to the bus stop. While this area was rural, there was a small building here — a warehouse for a medical supply company. It was not far from the highway and conveniently located between some major cities, so it made sense as a location for a warehouse. There was one employee at the warehouse.
That employee was Avery, who liked to check out Elton and the other construction workers at the end of the day. His summer vacation was almost over, and then it’d be back to college. For now though, he was enjoying the weather and appreciating the physiques of the workers who walked past his warehouse every afternoon.
Hushing up and filing to the bus stop, nobody turned to look at Avery, even though he waved.
“It’s Africa-hot today!”
“I’s sweaty as a hog,” said Paul Del Toro, who had taken his shirt off. Most of the workers did so whenever they got off-duty. It was hot this time of year, sweltering, sweat pouring down their bodies. Paul had a six-pack like a movie star, and he liked to show it off. Elton wasn’t jealous though — Paul had a six-pack and carved muscles but also a weird bulgey butterface, making him as ugly as a punch to the face. Paul glanced over to Avery. “That sissy is watchin’…”
“Sissies ain’t into yo’ stanky ass, Paul-“
“He prolly want my nigga ass,” Jaycee said, prompting an outpouring of laughs, as Jaycee lifted up his shirt as though to show off a six-pack like Paul’s. Jaycee didn’t have a six-pack. He always bragged about picking up chicks, but that was in part because he liked his females as thick as him, or moreso, and didn’t mind what their faces looked like — as he said, I prefers ’em bendin’ over anyhow, so I don’t see they faces much. Jaycee laughed along with them, and said, “Watch, he gonna be cummin’ in his drawers.” He bent over to tie his sneaker, aiming his ass right at the sissy man in front of the warehouse across the way. Jaycee shook his ass.
Everyone oohed and aahed, sneaking glances at the college boy Avery — who was maybe seventy feet away, looking in this direction, but not seemingly aware that Jaycee was bent over and waving his ass at him. Then Cooter — the older white guy with silver hair and a scruffy beard that made him look homeless — rammed one hand into Jaycee’s jeans as he said, “Watch out, he gonna stick it up ya rear, Jaycee!”
Jaycee yelped and jumped away. His deep voice bellowed. “Ah, man, Cooter, you nearly got in my asshole-“
Elton and the others all laughed so hard their sides hurt. That was just like Cooter too — he often called the others squeamish about male contact. He said the younger generations were wusses. Elton had once been pissing on a tree when Cooter came up to piss next to him and talked to him, cock hanging freely, so close Elton couldn’t help but look at it. Cooter hadn’t even realized that was weird. Elton hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from that veiny shaft — which was huge and intimidating, hoggish, knobbled, like an animal’s organ that had been grafted onto Cooter’s body.
“Shit, Cooter, you touched his asshole-“
“Shut the fuck up-” Cooter grumbled. He smacked Paul in the back of the head. “You boys is a bunch of motherfuckin’ squeamish whippersnappers. You know we used to shower after work e’ry day, and now we can’t on account of kids like you boys get all scared ’bout queers as soon as you gotta look at a real man’s dick. A real man can see another man wit’out goin’ squeamy, ya feel me?” He pulled his dick out, lowering his pants enough to bare it and then pulling his shirt off — revealing a broad chest covered in grayish hair — so his crotch was more visible.
“Ah, shit!”
“He whipped it out!”
“That old fart took his dick out!”
“Ah, fuck! Put that old-man dick away!”
“Hey, what’s that? There’s a note.” Jaycee noticed it first. There was a piece of paper taped to the bus-stop sign. Jaycee read it. “Who wants to blow a nut? I’ll give fifty bucks to whoever comes to my warehouse and lets me service their body on the downlow. Signed, Avery. P.S. No condom and yes I swallow.”
A long awkward silence filled the air. Then Paul laughed, and the others all joined in. Jaycee clutched his belly and grabbed his crotch, aiming his cock towards the warehouse. The men there waved awkwardly.
“Yo, man, you nasty! No one wanna do that shit!” Jaycee yelled to him.
“Fuckin’ gross! He prolly takin’ in nut from all kinda hobos and shit!”
“I gots females, man, I got female beggin’ for my meat. Ain’t doin’ nothin’ sissy for fifty bucks!” Vic de Santo yelled, throwing his hands in the air.
“You fuckheads don’t know what’s up, does ya dick even work? How else you gonna pass the time that’s better than dippin’ ya dick in some bitch?” Cooter said, running his fingers through his greasy white hair. His shirt was off, wadded up and dangling from the back of his workpants. He touched his bare chest like he was nervously thinking about it. Again, everyone fell silent as it became apparent Cooter was going to do it. “Fifty bucks? And you get ya dick wet? Man, back in my day-“
“Back in yo’ day slutty dinosaurs sucked you off?”
“Man, Cooter-!”
“You so old, man, I don’t even think he meant you-“
“Yeah, he want some young meat. Nobody do like an old man.”
“He prolly assumed your dick ain’t work, Cooter. He ain’t even think you might do it.”
“He might not even be able to tell that you old, Cooter, he never seen us up close.”
Cooter turned around. “If you fuckheads ain’t bold enough, stay here and pull ya goddamn puds. I’m-a go get my dick wet.” He walked away, towards the warehouse, leaving the others to cackle him up.
“Sorry, uh, Mister Sissy Dude! He ain’t know how old he is, he still think he a young buck!”
“You can just give him some hard candy and he’ll go away!”
Cooter growled as he approached the warehouse. The young sissy, Avery, lounged against the wall. “Hmmm… Hi,” Avery said.
“Howdy. I’m Cooter,” Cooter said. His voice was gruff and rough-hewn, like he lined his throat with river rocks. He looked Avery up and down. “You a punk, huh? You wanna get it up the ass? You gonna pay?”
Avery smiled nonchalantly. “I like to be wooed.” He held out a hand, which Cooter took and kissed the back of. He ignored the whooping shouts from his coworkers. Cooter’s callused hands ran up Avery’s arm, feeling his smooth skin. Then Cooter forcibly pushed Avery face-first into the wall. Avery grunted and gripped the brick. Cooter rammed his hand down Avery’s pants and touched his asscheeks, then his hole. He didn’t finger him, he just touched the rim and let go. Avery’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh, you brute! You’re so rough!”
Cooter grunted. “I know you prolly wanted them young bucks, but you got me. They’s all a bunch of squeamish nancies. They scared you gonna turn ’em into bitches.” He put his hands on his hips. “Pardon my French, that’s the word I use.”
“I don’t think that was French,” Avery said with a giggle. He touched one of Cooter’s nipples, then played with some of the sweat-dappled fur of his chest. “You’re all sweaty and dirty.”
“What’d you think was gonna happen? I just got off work.”
“I wasn’t complaining,” Avery said. He leaned in and kissed Cooter on the chest. The taste was sour and salty, with a muskiness like the smell of clothes that had sat in the closet all winter. “It was just an observation.” Avery licked a trail from his chest up to his neck.
But then Cooter gruffly shoved his head away. “Nah. You can touch me below the neck. C’mon, let’s go,” Cooter said. He walked into the warehouse. “Be quick, I don’t wanna miss my bus. And you best pay me. If you stiff me, motherfucker, I will kick your ass so hard ya farts fall out.”
“Yes, daddy,” Avery said. He came up close behind Cooter, whose weathered skin was taut over his looping back muscles. Cooter bristled but didn’t complain as Avery licked his broad shoulders — he had, after all, said Avery could touch him below the neck all he wanted.
Inside the warehouse were long rows of shelves filled with medical supplies. Cooter grunted at the sight of them. “You got Tonaltia?”
“Hmmm…?” Avery’s mind didn’t quite process his question because he focused on the grimy dust that clung to Cooter’s body hair. Avery sunk to his knees behind Cooter, who looked over the rows of goods. Avery pulled down Cooter’s mud-caked workpants, revealing a pair of tattered, threadbare boxers. Avery pulled them down too and kissed Cooter’s asscheeks. His old-man dick flopped out.
“You got Tonaltia here? It’s a lotion, it’s medicated but it’s over-the-counter.”
“I dunno, I don’t think so,” Avery said.
Cooter was quiet for a moment. “If you want, you can pay me in Tonaltia. That’s shit’s expensive. If you got a case of it here-“
“Hmmm…” Avery finally realized what he was saying, and the word Tonaltia hit his brain. “Oh, yeah, we got that. I can say a box got ruined due to mice or something, they’ll send us a replacement box.” He quickly went and found one. It had twenty bottles of Tonaltia in it — worth close to two hundred bucks at retail.
Cooter stood there waiting with his pants and boxers around his ankles. His prick dangled freely. He grabbed the box and seemed satisfied, like he would have gladly walked out with his pants still down. But he stood still, box in hand.
“Alright then, sissy, get to whatevuh it is you wanna do,” Cooter said. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at his feet, where Avery kneeled once more. Avery didn’t use his hands, he bent his head over and chased Cooter’s cock with his mouth.
Cooter harrumphed and used his hands instead — he grabbed Avery’s head and fed his dick down. “Quit playin’ wit’ it, man, young fellers is always playin’ and shit. Take it serious.” He started fucking Avery’s throat immediately, even though his dick was soft and rubbery.
Avery didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to deep-throat Cooter’s dick while it was still limp, and he slathered it with spit. He suckled loudly, moistly generating as much saliva as he could, until it ran down his chin and onto the warehouse floor.
He gripped Cooter’s asscheeks for support, using both hands there so he could slurp hands-free — he liked doing that because it clearly annoyed Cooter. Cooter didn’t want to touch Avery’s head since he wasn’t wearing that Marilyn Monroe wig — Cooter hadn’t let a man jerk him off without that wig in a very long time; Cooter hadn’t been sober for it for an even long time. Soon he found his dick was rock-hard, balls swinging against Avery’s chin. He grunted. Did this feel better than it did when he was drunk?
At least, he thought, he had months worth of that damn lotion his insurance wouldn’t cover. That was worth way more than the fifty bucks.
“Ah, damn…” A jolt of pleasure shot up his spine. Cooter bit his lip and moaned. He gripped Avery’s head and found that now, he wasn’t so uncomfortable with the clearly-male hair underneath his fingers. It no longer reminded him so much that he wasn’t with a female, and he could picture a pretty woman in his mind — the warehouse was dimly lit, after all, so he could barely see Avery.
Moist choking sounds emanated up from Avery’s lips, and Cooter grew increasingly impassioned. Cooter didn’t sound friendly when he was aroused though, and he kept grunting, clucking his tongue against his teeth and grimacing when he felt resistance from Avery’s throat.
“C’mon, man, open that throat up,” Cooter murmured. “You fightin’ back, don’t fight me, boy!” He let go, and Avery pulled off to gasp for air.
“Hmmm… You can keep throating me down, even if I gag, that’s fine-“
“I know, punk,” Cooter said with an angry snort. He rammed his dick back in even before Avery could gather his breath. As a burst of pleasure ran up his spine, Cooter let out a long chest-rattling sigh.
“Eww! Eww! Eww! “
“Did you see it?”
“I could hear it! It was so nasty! It was the nastiest sound ever!”
“He’s really jerkin’ off that old man!”
Those other younger construction workers must have poked their head in. Avery didn’t see them, but he made as many loud choking sounds as he could when he thought he heard the door creak open again. They all snickered like children and dashed off.
Cooter shouted back. “Man, you youngins best shut ya goddamn mouths! I may be old but I can still whip ya silly bitch-asses!” When he yelled, his hoary old crotch rammed into Avery’s face, his nose nuzzling in his wiry pubic hair.
Avery choked once more, and a big wad of fluids plopped on the ground. That was a loud enough sound that it made the young men outside holler like their favorite team had just scored a goal.
“Shit, Cooter, you are fuckin’ disgustin’!”
“Damn! Didya hear that!”
“Shit, when I fuck girls in the ass, it make more of a thwomp-thwomp sound-“
“But you ain’t got droopy old-man balls like Cooter, his sac goes all the way to his knees and shit-“
“Gray pubic hair prolly smells like a fuckin’ library.”
“Hey, Gramps, is in you in his ass or his mouth?”
“That ain’t no choke, I made girls choke on my meat before, they don’t sound like that-“
“That’s cuz girls don’t like chokin’. They quit when they choke.”
Cooter let out another growl. His dick throbbed, salty precum running down the shaft. He swiped it over Avery’s face, leaving a layer of gleaming fluids there, which seemed to virtually glow in the dim light of the warehouse.
“Shit, I bet his cum smells like Werther’s Originals-“
“Hey!” Cooter shouted. He walked away, dick dragging out of Avery’s mouth. He went right to the doorway, shuffling because his pants and boxers were around his ankles. The younger workers scattered away from the door when they saw him getting close, cock jutting from his silver-tinged pubic hair.
“Gah! Old man dick!”
“Oh shit! He gonna ram you, Jaycee!”
“You motherfuckin’ little shits best get the fuck away from me! We fuckin’ in here, alright? I don’t come to ya mama’s place and heckle you when you fuckin’ her stank asshole, Paulie, don’t you dare come after me!” Avery bristled because he felt Avery come up behind him, licking his back and his ass. Avery’s hands roamed around to Cooter’s front and jacked his dick off right there in the threshold. The other workers ran around in the parking lot making nervous jokes and pretending they weren’t sneaking glances.
“Hmmm… Will you ram me now, daddy? I need your cock inside me. Please? Stick it in me and don’t use a condom, just fill me up with your cum-“
“Quit beggin’, of course I’ll ram you. I just gotta make a point. Stand here and grease yaself up,” Cooter said. He tried to grab Vic de Santo when he ran near the door — attempting to throw cold water on Cooter’s head, though Vic’s water bottle only had a little water left in it, and it wasn’t very cold, so Cooter didn’t notice — to punch him, but Vic escaped from his grasp.
“Shit, Vic!
“Old man balls! Old man balls! That’s what we callin’ Cooter now: Old-Man Balls! Lookit that, man, he got dangly balls-“
Cooter cursed under his breath and turned around. Avery had bent over right there, using the door itself for support. Cooter grimaced and got behind him. With the door swung all the way open, Avery’s head was mostly concealed by the wall, but his ass was plainly visible from outside.
It was so smooth and greasy, lubed up now — the warehouse carried lube, so Avery had opened a bottle — it got Cooter’s attention. He was annoyed by the young men’s caterwauling, but the sight of Avery’s ass got his dick throbbing again. It looked so feminine. His hips were hourglass-shaped, his cheeks plump and perky, his hole tight, begging him to plow into it. He looked more feminine from behind than some of the females Cooter had been fucking lately.
His dick wedged in, and Cooter sucked in his breath. The guys backed even farther away, nearly all the way to the bus stop, pushing each other towards the warehouse.
A throaty sound escaped from Cooter’s throat. He couldn’t believe how good it felt when his dick slipped in. The door swung on its hinges because Avery had to use it for support. He pressed his face against the cold steel door and held onto the knob with both hands.
“Oh shit…” Avery moaned. His prostate sent waves of pleasure through his body. The fact that Cooter was more focused on looking tough for the guys outside just made it hotter — Avery was being used like a toy, his face hidden by the door itself, and only his ass mattered. He couldn’t open it wide enough, but that didn’t slow Cooter down any.
He gripped Avery’s smooth ass and plowed in over and over, bending his wrinkled silver muscles this way and that so the others would notice. He even flexed his fleshy biceps and pounded on his chest like Tarzan, prompting a wave of hoots and laughter from the bus stop.
“Oh god, deeper! I love your old cock inside me!” Avery screamed loud enough for the others to hear.
Cooter licked his lips. His face was red, veins throbbing against the taut skin of his neck, his weathered cheeks glistening with sweat, silver hair matted to his chest with the spit from Avery’s worship.
“Ow, damn, son, don’t move, don’t move, don’t move-” He gripped Avery’s shoulder and held on as an orgasm exploded within him. “I said don’t move, boy! Stay still-” He groaned, voice wavering as he came.
“Oh shit, Old-Man Balls is cummin'”
“Go lick his nuts, Jaycee! You said you wanted to-“
“You prolly got a big ol’ hardon-“
Great wads of cum sprayed into Avery’s ass, more than he thought possible in such an old man. Cooter’s wiry pubic hair scratched Avery’s smooth cheeks. Fluids sloshed around inside him, the heat seeping into Avery’s flesh. Avery cried out, his own orgasm overwhelming him in waves.
Avery shot a cumwad onto the floor of the warehouse, sight of which made the other workers grumble nervously — it was one thing to sneak glances at them fucking, it was another thing to watch Avery shoot his cum on the ground, while Cooter’s gray muscles flexed and glistened.
“Ah…” Cooter didn’t intend to drop Avery to the ground. But the pleasure wracking his body was so intense he couldn’t help but grab Avery by the hair and pull his head up. His intent was just to more tightly control the position of Avery’s ass, but when Avery couldn’t hold onto the door anymore, they both thudded painfully to the ground.
“Shit! Did he just bodyslam that man?”
“Oh god, he’s really cornholin’ him!”
They all rushed the warehouse because, for a moment, it looked like Cooter had rammed Avery’s face onto the cold cement floor. But it hadn’t been as violent as it looked, Avery was fine, a little pain in his ass and his knees, but it was overshadowed by the waves of pleasure wafting through him.
Cooter writhed atop him, toes curling, cock grinding within every corner of Avery’s asshole. His cum was a big frothy mess now and still Cooter plowed, until it had all slipped out into a nasty puddle on the ground.
“Goddamn…” Avery said with a moan, his voice weak and tinny. The guys heard the pleasured tone to his words and stopped short in the parking lot. They nervously looked away.
There was some nervous snickering, but nobody laughed out loud now as they watched Cooter’s wrinkled ass — which was ropy, well-muscled and taut, covered in fine grayish hairs, writhe, dimple, flex, his limpening dick roaming around in the cummy soup that filled Avery’s hole.
“Shit, boys, watch this…” Cooter lifted his upper body off Avery’s soft frame. He grimaced, and the guys watched with baited breath, wide eyes and nervous, voiceless chuckling as Cooter’s long dick slowly slipped out of Avery’s asshole. “Lookit that, he gapes like a porn star-“
“Nobody wanna see that, old man,” Jaycee said quietly, even though everyone stared as it happened.
“Shit…” Cooter moaned. His cock flopped out, and Avery sighed. Avery twitched. He scampered away and jumped to his feet. He blushed at the sight of the strangers all staring at his naked, cum-soaked body.
“Goddamn, Cooter.”
“You really rammed him good.”
Cooter aimed his crotch so his heavy cock and low-hanging balls were plainly visible. “I can break open any asshole so good it falls off. I know how to get my dick wet, on account of I ain’t no squeamish pansy like you little shit-sandwiches.”
Avery hurried into the warehouse while they all made fun of Cooter. Avery got the box of lotion that Cooter had left on a shelf. He brought it back to him, along with his clothes and some wetnaps he used to wipe Cooter’s dick clean.
Cooter grunted and watched Avery clean his dick off. ” Sissies is nice, they clean you up. Girls make you do that yaself-“
Paul snorted. “Yeah, that’s a good reason to do it, Old-Man Balls.”
“Fuck you, young buck-!”
Another argument was about to develop when the rumbling engine of the bus could be heard. It was on its way.
“Ah, shit-!”
“Don’t let it leave, man!”
“Who’s driving today? Wave ya hands so he sees us!”
They all ran to the bus stop, all except Cooter, who stood there with his shirt in hand, ready to put it back on. He paused for a moment, made sure no one was looking at him, then wrapped Avery in his arms, kissed him on the lips, rammed his tongue down his throat and pulled away, all in about two seconds.
“There. I-” He paused to gag because Avery’s mouth tasted like precum. “I kissed ya. You like that, huh? You lemme ram you e’ry day and I’ll kiss you one time. And take ya money and lotion, but I kiss you e’ry day. That make you feel good? I kiss you one time if you lemme ram like that e’ry day, all that gaggin’ and shit, and lettin’ me pound into you. That’s good.” He pointed at Avery as though he was accusing him of something. “Don’t tell no one ’bout the kissin’, and from now on we gotta do that first so you don’t taste like dick when I kiss ya.”

Santa Claus

Avery has long sought the ultimate alpha: Santa Claus! He never thought he’d make it to the North Pole and land that holly-jolly slice of manmeat, but a secret NATO mission north of Greenland gives him the opportunity of a lifetime. Can he satisfy Santa’s most masculine of needs?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery and his Inuit guides all thought they were seeing things when the North Pole finally came into view. The wind raged like a hurricane — it wasn’t snowing, but it felt like it was because the wind kicked up the snow that covered the ice-pack ocean surface. Avery thought for sure he’d never be able to leave. He’d been a fool to come this far. How could he go back and go through this whole trip again in reverse?
Everything was frozen. The snow and ice beneath his feet was meters thick, and beneath it was water so cold it made Avery shiver just to think about it. The boots he wore were so frozen they crackled as he walked, as did his outermost two layers of socks. The water on the sled dogs’s fur was frozen too. Avery’s bones and his blood and his heart all felt frozen solid, like he had become an ice golem somewhere between Nuuk and here.
Somehow Tukkuttok and Qannik were fine, but then, it was hard to tell because they wore insulated masks (as did Avery). He couldn’t see any of their faces. It was almost claustrophobic, Avery thought, even though he was in a wide-open wilderness. It was like he was trapped in a little room, just that little room was the insulated space beneath his layers of clothes.
The idea of traveling to the North Pole had been ridiculous even if Avery had had a serious reason for going. But it was just a joke that had gone too far. Now he had spent thousands of dollars — and he’d eaten dog meat! — all for one little tawdry encounter.
One which might not even ever happen.
He wasn’t sure this was going to work. His legs felt like they were on fire, and he was surprised with each foot forward he traveled that they hadn’t fallen off. The dogs barked. They didn’t need to be directed where to go now. They went straight for the North Pole.
“There it is, it’s amazing,” Tukkuttok said. He had a stilted, clipped accent, half-Inuit, half-Danish. Avery was pretty sure he was handsome, but he’d only seen a small part of Tukkuttok’s face. The other Inuit was Qannik, who hadn’t spoken much. Tukkuttok spoke for him. “We must hurry to enact the plan.” He glanced at Avery but didn’t make eye contact with him.
Avery was fine with that. He didn’t officially know what Tukkuttok and Qannik planned on doing. It was coming from the Danish government, and it had something to do with NATO submarines operating in the area. Avery had paid for this expedition, but he was not the reason Tukkuttok and Qannik had come along. He was just their cover story.
He was here for the North Pole. It gleamed, marbled spires rising from the frozen wasteland, and beyond those gates Avery could virtually see the warmth. He’d finally get the chill out of his bones once he got in there. He hurried away from Tukkuttok and Qannik.
He staggered to the gate. It was harder to walk the closer he got to it. The gate loomed in front of him like a beast, a burning beast of pure cold, sunlight glittering off endless heaps of snow. Awe entered Avery like a cock in his ass, and he could do little more than fall to his knees and beg for entrance. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever make it back either. He couldn’t imagine turning around and going through that again.
Now that he was here, he was here, and he both couldn’t and didn’t want to leave, or at least a part of him didn’t. Or maybe, he thought, forcing his mind to whir despite the feelings wracking his body, maybe it was just a magical enchantment coming off the North Pole. Maybe he was actually freezing to death.
On the other side of the gate, a two-foot-tall elf stood as though waiting for him. He had green skin and pointed ears. “Greetings, traveler! Welcome to Santa’s Workshop! Is Christmas in your heart?”
“Wh-What?” Avery’s mouth was virtually frozen shut. He couldn’t think about anything but getting past that gate. The warmth emanated from it like an aura.
“Do you have the spirit of Christmas in your heart?” the elf asked.
“Uh… Yes.”
The elf nodded and opened the gate. Avery toppled into the North Pole, landing on green grass. The elf beamed. “I’m so glad you said that. People sometimes laugh or make a sarcastic quip, and that’s how I know I can’t let them in. It always breaks my heart when that happens, and I have to leave them out there in the wintry cold. So I’m glad you told the truth.”
Here, it was warm and summer. Avery crawled away from the gate so the elf could shut it, snapping off the roaring wind and freezing bluster that billowed in from outside. He sighed and took a deep breath as he tried to stop shivering. He was drastically overdressed for the warm weather here, but the cold had seeped into his very soul, so he didn’t want to remove any clothes yet. He might not ever, he thought. His bones were still cold.
Finally he made it to his feet. His knees felt like jelly. A few elves had gathered around Avery, who smiled wanly.
“Are you from OSHA?” asked one of the elves. “We’ve fixed the toy chute. No one was ever in any danger, we know how to protect ourselves-“
“No, no, nothing like that,” Avery said. “I need to see Santa. Alone. It’s very important.”
One of the elves nodded and led Avery away from the gate. He walked briskly, pumping his arms as he went. Since he was only two feet tall, Avery struggled to avoid outpacing the elf’s tiny legs.
“If you’re here to get your name removed from the naughty list, it won’t work,” the elf said. “In fact, he’ll probably put you on the naughty list for next year instead.”
“No, that’s not it,” Avery said. He looked at the factory the elf had led him to. It looked like an ordinary factory. He was rather expecting a Hansel-and-Gretel-esque factory made of candy and cake and ornaments. Instead, this was just a plain brick building with smokestacks rising from it.
Avery went in the door the elf pointed to. He came in through an office, where a couple muscle-bound elves in sleeveless shirts nodded at him. They were refilling water bottles (tiny ones) at a water cooler. Behind them sat a desk, and behind that was Santa himself.
“Hi,” Avery said. The elves went back to the factory floor, leaving Avery and Santa there alone. “I’m Avery. Avery Flowers.”
“Yes, I know,” Santa said. He didn’t stop writing, seemingly making a list on a long piece of paper that rolled up as he moved down the sheet. His big bushy beard trembled.
“Uh, well, I wanted to meet you, first of all. Hi, Santa, it’s nice to meet you.”
Santa grunted. “I’m only required to be jolly to children. You can get to the point,” he said. He glanced up at Avery for the first time his stout frame shifting in the scarlet robes he wore.
“I heard a rumor that you had a problem with the International Brotherhood of Machinist-Men, Carpenters, Letter-Carriers and Wallet-Stainers,” Avery said.
“IBOMMCLAWS, yeah,” Santa said with a scoff. “Not a real problem. They’ve been threatening to go on strike for decades.” He went back to his writing. “They’re all talk.”
“Well, I think I can help. I have connections within IBOMMCLAWS,” Avery said. “I can get the leadership to make a deal. They don’t want Christmas to be cancelled-“
“No one’s canceling Christmas. The worst-case scenario is that no one gets any stuffed animals this year, that’s the only part of the factory that union covers,” Santa said. He threw his hands up and scoffed in no particular direction. “Stuffing-stuffers are in IBOMMCLAWS for some reason. Never tangle with unions-“
“I wouldn’t, I never would,” Avery said.
“They’re recalcitrant. They know — or they think, wrongly — they think I’ll give in, that I won’t let a Christmas go by without stuffed animals,” Santa said. He leaned in close to Avery. He whispered, “But you know what? I have a secret.”
“Oh-“
Santa Claus shouted. “The secret is nobody cares about stuffed animals! That was a state-of-the-art gift two hundred years ago! You know what everyone wants this year? A Tomaha Stacato.”
A long pause lay between them. Avery furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s…?”
“I have no idea! There’s thirteen thousand of them in the warehouse! I asked if they need batteries and got a forty-five minute lecture on lithium-ion cells. Do you know what a lithium-ion cell is-?”
“No-“
“Nobody does!” Santa Claus grimaced. “I’m getting too old for this shit.” He sighed. “Wait, did you say you could get me a deal with IBOMMCLAWS?”
Avery nodded. “No promises, but I have some connections. I’ll do what I can to get them to yes. I’m sure you’d rather have a deal. Some kids still like stuffed animals.”
“It’s not Thanksgiving, so I’m not gonna talk turkey,” Santa said. He looked up at Avery with a dour look on his big round face. “I’ll give it to you straight. I can’t match retirement savings-“
“I’m not here to negotiate on that stuff.”
“Oh?”
“I’m here to get your dick in my ass.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I came here so you would stick me. I want to taste your dick, I want you to stick it in me hard. In return, I’ll put in a good word for you at IBOMMCLAWS,” Avery said. “You can trust me, I swear, I know this guy-“
“I know, Avery. I see all, remember. I know of your connection to him, and I know all about the disgusting things you do — it’s on my list, of course-“
“I’m not here for judgement.”
Santa furrowed his brow. “You know this would make you officially naughty for the year, right? I’m married.”
“I know. I can skip a Christmas, go ahead and put coal in my stocking,” Avery said. He put his hands on his hips. “The price of coal is going up anyway. Could be good for me, financially.”
Santa frowned. “And you want me to… booty bandit you?”
“Nobody uses booty bandit as a verb.”
His frown intensified, and he held up a finger in front of Avery’s face. “Do not lecture Santa Claus about grammar. That’s a good way to get on the permanent naughty list. Ask Will Self if I’m kidding.”
“I don’t know Will Self-“
“He’ll tell you I’m not kidding.”
“I didn’t think you were,” Avery said. “Look, it’s no big deal, I’ve just always thought you were handsome, and you have an a amazing physique-“
“Aren’t I… a little old?”
“Well, yeah, kinda, but I like a mature man,” Avery said. “You’re what, a thousand years old?”
Santa scoffed. He stood up, rolling his eyes. “Don’t make me laugh.”
Avery laughed. “I just realized you mentioned booty bandits. What does Santa Claus know about booty bandits? Have you… been to prison?”
“They celebrate Christmas in prison, you know,” Santa said.
“Ooooooh, yeah, that makes sense.”
Santa began taking off his robe. “Fine, I’ll do it. You had better follow through. I’ll put you on all the naughty lists — you won’t get birthday presents, you won’t get Easter baskets, you won’t get money from the tooth fairy, who’s a total whore by the way. Cocktease.”
“Really?”
His broad chest was visible now, his robe untied, and the cinnamony smell of his armpits — or maybe his cologne — hit Avery’s nostrils. Avery licked his lips. He was both hungry and horny now. Avery said, “There’s a naughty list for birthdays?”
Santa nodded. He stood up and locked the door to the factory floor, then the front door. “I’ll do it. Don’t tell Mrs. Claus.”
“When would I ever talk to her?” Avery said with a giggle. He dropped to his knees in front of Santa, caressing his thick legs through those bright red pants. Santa undid his red robe, revealing dingy white long underwear that cradled his belly and powerful chest.
He wasn’t as fat as most depictions of him. He was stout, sure, and he looked like he had never had a six-pack, even when he was very young. But he was broad-shouldered and well-muscled beneath all that meaty flesh; he had a big barrel chest that shook and flexed as he undressed. He had a civilized-bear look to him, with a big jaw and a powerful face. His beard was bushy and full, and when Avery got closer, he realized the beard was where that cinnamon scent came from. Avery unbuttoned the crotch of his long underwear and let his thick cock flop out.
Avery had had a crush on Santa Claus for a long time, and he never thought he’d get to act on it. The North Pole was so far away after all, it had seemed like an impossible dream.
His dick tasted salty and sweet, with a minty bite to it — it tasted like a savory candy-cane. He smiled and slathered it with spit, licking a trail from the tip to the root. He glanced up at Santa beyond the belly and had to suppress a laugh at Santa’s harsh stare.
“This might put you on the naughty list for two years,” Santa said. Then he closed his eyes and his jolly beard quivered as his dick got hard. It perked right up in Avery’s mouth. He didn’t stop slurping on it, he just let it get bigger until he choked and sputtered.
Soon Avery had his mouth all the way down on Santa’s dick, his face nuzzling the silvered hair of his crotch, while his hands reached up to caress that giant barrel-shaped body. Santa’s muscles rippled under Avery’s touch, his pecs bouncing up and down.
“Hmmm… Mrs. Claus hasn’t touched me like this in a long time.” Santa sighed once more, and Avery could see the stress leaving his body.
“You poor baby…” Avery said, rubbing Santa’s cock all over his face. He knew men loved it when he did that. He flopped it over his mouth and nose and chased it with his tongue, giggling like it was his favorite game. “Are you ready to put it in my ass?”
Santa nodded. A jolly grin flickered across his face, then he frowned. “You shouldn’t curse, son.”
“Sorry, Santa. I’m ready for you to wreck my ass,” Avery said. He turned around and lifted his ass high in the air.
“That’s three years of naughty-list!” Santa said. He stroked his dick, gulping and looking around nervously to be sure no one was going to interrupt them. Then he gingerly stuck his dick in Avery’s ass, just the tip, right at the entrance for a moment. Santa paused.
“Santa? Are you okay?”
“Four years!”
“How is asking if you’re okay naughty?” Avery turned his head to see Santa’s face turn red.
“I’m… Just shut up! I’ve never done this, not even with Mrs. Claus,” Santa said. He closed his eyes.
“Mrs. Claus doesn’t do anal? Honestly, she looks like the type. Have you ever asked? She might like it-” Avery said.
“Five years!” Santa slapped Avery’s cheeks, which jiggled and prompted Avery to jerk. Then Avery backed up, slipping his ass onto Santa’s cock. Santa gasped. He gripped Avery’s ass and drilled in even deeper. Santa bit his lip, beard quivering.
Avery rolled his eyes. “I was just kidding. Jeez… You’re touchy,” he said. “You need a dose of holiday cheer.”
But Santa ignored him, gyrating like it took all of his concentration to do so. His eyes were closed as he pistoned his hips, slowly and awkwardly at first. But with every thrust of his cock into Avery’s ass, he got a little more smooth and comfortable with it.
Soon he was gyrating like he’d done it before, his face alternating between jolly grins and fearful grimaces, his belly slapping against Avery’s ass. Avery’s knees were sore so he scooted over until he could use Santa’s thick red robe, now crumpled on the floor, like a kneepad.
At last he felt every inch of Santa’s dick sliding in and out of him. Avery’s prostate came alive, and he let out a long, blood-curdling moan.
Yeah, he thought, this trip was totally worth it. He still he might be able to get Tukkuttok off on the way back, which would be a bonus. Avery stroked his own cock, which was on the verge of orgasm already.
Avery took the upper-hand by grinding his ass deep onto Santa’s cock. He lifted his head and leaned back — he wasn’t going to take it up the ass from Santa and not feel that jolly belly and beard. So he rubbed his back against Santa’s silver-furred belly and broad chest, while he nuzzled the beard and kissed his neck. Santa seemed to barely notice, his eyes still closed, slamming into Avery’s ass as hard as he could.
“Ho ho ho…” Santa said, his voice breaking as his dick twitched within Avery’s ass. He let out a spine-cringing moan aimed directly into Avery’s ear.
Avery shot his load then, just moments before Santa’s balls crawled up in his sac. Semen sprayed onto the floor of the factory office, while Santa’s jolly load filled Avery’s ass with creamy warmth. It seeped into his flesh, finally erasing the chill that had settled into his bones on the voyage up here.
“Ah…” Avery let out a long, low howl. He slathered his tongue over Santa’s well-muscled chest and his silver fur. Then he kissed Santa on that lips, that dense bristly beard scratching at his cheek the whole time.
It was a potent orgasm that hung in Avery’s body for what felt like forever. He sighed again as relief flooded him — this was as good as he had hoped, it had been worth the trip and the risk and everything he had spent to get here.
“Damn…” Avery said as he at last fell limp in Santa’s arms.
It was done. With Avery’s and Santa’s tongues still interlocked, Avery shot the last of his cum into his hand, while Santa’s load trickled down Avery’s thighs.
Avery pulled off and sighed. He suckled on one of Santa’s perky nipples until Santa had enough and gently shoved him away. “Alright, you had what you needed. You’ll help me with my union troubles?”
“You can call me Pinkerton,” Avery said. He giggled again at Santa’s frown. “Don’t be cross…”
“You’re about to get a sixth year of naughty-list, young man, if you don’t show a little respect,” Santa said sternly. He pulled his long underwear up and slowly donned his red robes again.
“Are you really going to deliver me coal for five years?”
Santa frowned. “Possibly. Some of the elves want to cancel coal deliveries because it isn’t green enough. We might replace the coal with something else useless, like DVDs of old reality shows.”
“Oh yeah, that’d be a great idea. I could put a lump of coal on a stand and call it un objet d’art. But a Season One DVD of Survivor would be utterly useless,” Avery said. He put his clothes back on. He sighed. “I guess it’s about time for me to be heading back. Thanks, Santa.”
“Have a merry Christmas,” Santa said before flinging the door open and striding into the factory floor. “Alright elves, I see a lot of lollygagging and grabassing! I don’t see a lot of manufacturing!” The door swung shut behind him.
Avery sighed. He was glad to have finally gotten some of Santa’s dick, but now that it was over, he dreaded the next five years of bad Christmases. What would he do with all those DVDs? He’d feel bad even giving them to Goodwill.
Oh well, he thought, he had five years to figure that out. His goal for now was to gin up the endurance to get back in the sled with Tukkuttok and Qannik.
That reminded him he still thought he could jack Tukkuttok off inside his snowpants. Avery had always wanted to try that, and he had a long voyage back to Nuuk to make it happen. He hoped his Inuit guides had completed whatever NATO mission they set out for.
The gate was opened for him before he got there. Avery hesitated, unsure if he wanted to do it. It was so cold out there. Couldn’t he live at the North Pole forever?
There was a loud boom behind him.
Avery cocked his head to the side, wondering what that was, but his attention remained looking out past the gate into the raging weather of the North Pole. The snow was piled high just a few feet away, but here, it was plenty warm.
The elves screamed, running around and wagging their arms in front of their faces. They were red-faced and sweaty. The well-muscled guards were gone — running off with weapons drawn.
“What happened?” Avery asked, but none of the elves noticed him at first. He overheard bits and pieces from them — the gist was that Santa was gone. IBOMMCLAWS had a Communist splinter group, and their affiliated local had kidnapped Santa. They were demanding that Christmas be cancelled and replaced with a single uniform gift that everyone in the world would get.
Before Avery could decide what to do next, however, he saw Santa’s sleigh overheard, nine reindeer in front of it. A big smile appeared on his face. He hadn’t thought to go find Rudolph, but there he was with the nose shining brightly.
Of course, Santa probably has security, Avery thought as the sleigh landed in front of him. There’s probably some kind of elven SWAT team around. He assumed Santa would be on the sleigh, or that he would appear shortly.
The reindeer, however, all looked at Avery. The elves stopped running around. They kneeled in front of Avery, whose eyes opened wide. “Uh… What’s up, guys…?”
“Sir, you will have to be the new Santa for now-” The elves all spoke at once.
Avery was distracted by a glorious light enveloping him and lifting him above the ground. He was deposited into the sleigh, behind all nine reindeer, who kept their heads aimed in his direction.
He wore that red robe now, and he had gained a big bushy white beard. Before Avery could even respond, the reindeer had jolted into action, and they were off.
As Avery soon learned — Rudolph could speak — there needed to be a Santa, so if the old Santa disappeared, the nearest human would turn into the new Santa. Avery had no choice in the matter, he was Santa, and that was that, until the old Santa was freed.
Avery was going to have to deliver gifts to the world.
“But I don’t… I mean I like Christmas, but it’s not, like… I like men at Christmas-“
“You don’t like women?” Rudolph asked. “You still have to deliver them gifts.”
“Sure, sure, I don’t hate them, I can deliver them gifts,” Avery said. He blushed.
“Good,” Rudolph said.
Avery had to shout to be heard over the rush of wind as the frozen northscape passed beneath them. “I just mean I don’t really do the whole Christmas thing. I celebrate it with my family, my sister, my nieces, my dickhead brother-in-law. But I’m not like… I don’t love the traditional Christmas stuff.” Avery smiled at Rudolph’s confused face. “I like men at Christmas-time. I spend most of the Christmas season looking for men. Let me tell you about them,” Avery said. He figured that, by the time, he finished explaining, this whole Santa thing would be solved. Santa’s own security will have solved this.
I’ll just be Santa for a little while…

The Retired Boxer Bottoms

Avery is a masseur with an older man as a client. He’s a retired boxer, and he has some interesting ideas about how to get his needs met. Can Avery do what it takes to satisfy his studly new client?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery awkwardly accepted payment from a client. He smiled and said some polite things, but that didn’t make the situation any less awkward. This client was a hefty young man, a beefy jock with a powerful body but also a big belly and a hairy, unpleasant ass. He had come to the massage parlor in search of sexy Asian masseuses who could give him a handjob for a few dollars. There were no sexy Asian masseuses here, there was only Avery, and he didn’t give handjobs to tubby stinkbombs.
It was a miscommunication that happened often in this massage parlor right off campus. It simply came with the territory. He didn’t mind — it was awkward, but on the other hand, he sometimes got a hunky jock who was just horny enough to go for it, and on those occasions, Avery both got paid and got to give a handjob.
He was finally almost done with college. He needed this one massage practical credit to complete his degree in physical education. Then, at last, his parents would get off his back about graduating.
He went back into his massage room and cleaned up in preparation for his next client, whose name was Carver Weatherbee. That was such an old-man name it made Avery chuckle to himself. He liked mature men with good physiques, but not old guys. Aa lot of decrepit old men came in here for massages in lieu of surgery they had declined over and over.
Carver Weatherbee was probably another man like that. Avery got a lot of that kind of business because this massage parlor accepted Medicare. They barely paid anything for the massages he gave, but Avery made them quick and simple. Some of those old people told their younger friends, family and nurses that he gave good massages. A lot of those who didn’t want a handjob — who genuinely wanted a massage — preferred to find out about massage parlors through word-of-mouth because all advertising for massage parlors ended up looking prostitute-y.
Carver Weatherbee… Avery snickered. If he was a screenwriter brainstorming names that screamed “old coot”, that’s what he would come up with.
He went out into the waiting area when he heard the bell tinkle, fully expecting to see a rickety white man with an oxygen tank and a Congolese nurse at his side.
Instead, however, he saw a mature black man with the physique of a warrior. Avery blushed and dropped his clipboard. He blanched and covered his face as he picked up it up.
Carver Weatherbee was about fifty, and, though his face didn’t look younger than that, he did have the body of a younger man. He was built like a boxer — which was because he, in fact, was a boxer. Or had been thirty years ago, and he’d been a boxing coach for more than a decade, helping him keep his barrel-shaped box-like stack of muscles intact.
His face was worn and weathered now, wrinkles along his cheeks and his square jaw. His hair was mostly black and streaked with gray, but his unkempt goatee was mostly gray and streaked with black. He chewed on his lower lip.
“Hiyuh,” Carver said with a sigh. He had rather hoped his masseur would be a woman, even though his daughter said that wouldn’t happen — she said “masseur” meant “male”. Carver didn’t believed her. As far as he was concerned, no self-respecting man would ever become a masseur. That was woman’s work.
He had forgotten about pansies, he thought as he followed Avery into the back. The pinkboy shook his ass in a most tantalizing way. Carver flared his nostrils, looking Avery up and down hungrily.
“So, uh, Mr. Weatherbee, is there a specific area of the body you need assistance with? I believe your daughter mentioned you had shoulder pain on the phone.”
“Umm-huh. Shoulder.”
“Okay, okay, well, I’m going to do whatever I can to make you feel better,” Avery said. He opened the door to the massage room.
Carver looked Avery up and down with a horny simmer in his eyes. Avery sensed that, and caught a glimpse of the tall man’s eyes aimed down at Avery’s ass. Was he checking out Avery’s behind? Or was he angry that he had to let a sissy touch him? Could be either one.
“Is it both shoulders that are hurting you?” Avery said. He patted the exam table, and Carver hopped up onto it. He wore a sleeveless work shirt, through which his long, fleshy arms protruded, the sleeveless hole having ripped to the point where Avery could see his side and his armpit. He wore tattered old basketball shorts too, the real long kind they don’t make anymore.
Avery shuddered with desire as Carver took off that shirt and explained. “So, uh, yeah, mistuh, uh, I gots pain in my left shoulder, evuh since this time last year, right, I was helpin’ this homeboy move into a new ‘partment on Windsor Ave, huh? You feel me?”
“Hmmm.” Avery had trouble focusing on his words because Carver’s chest and broad back beckoned. He took a deep breath and quickly checked out Carver’s joints — if there was something seriously wrong, Avery wasn’t allowed to do the massage; he would have to refer him to a doctor or orthopedic surgeon. But he saw no clear anatomical reason for pain.
“So, uh, this homeboy be askin’ me, like can I help and shit? Ya know? And I’s like, yeah, sure, cuz I’m his coach — I coach boxers and shit, y’know? And uh, I was like yeah I help ya motherfucker, but I ain’t know he wasn’t even gonna do nothin’. I ain’t expectin’ payment, ya feel me? I’s doin’ that as a friend. As a coach. As yo’ homeboy. You feel me?”
“Hmmm… Yeah, I, uh-” Avery wasn’t sure how this story seemed to have gotten away from the shoulder pain.
“But he ain’t even try and buy me no dinner or nothin’. He got a Puerto Rican girl too. They can cook, I reckon. They got them little tamale things — they don’t call ’em tamales, they slap the fuck outta you if you call ’em tamales. But they good as shit. I can eat the crap outta them, lemme tell you!” His big booming voice echoed.
“Your shoulder?”
“Right, yeah, so I’s like liftin’ and shit, puttin’ his junk in the truck, right?” He demonstrated himself lifting and even stood as though he needed to re-enact it. Avery didn’t mind watching because it meant he could see those broad shoulders flex and stretch. He even massaged them a little as he looked for anatomical irregularities. Carver continued the story. “See? And I lift his shit up into the truck — he got his girl’s brother to let ‘im borrow that. You best believe I don’t let no one borrow my truck, no suh, I tells ’em straight up I been burned on that one too many times. I don’t care if I’m yo’ coach, yo’ friend, yo’ homeboy, yo’ goddamn identical twin brother, I ain’t handin’ ovuh my truck, ya feel me?”
“Hmm-hmm. Your shoulder?”
“Yeah, so it started hurtin’. I tol’ that homeboy, you best show some goddamn gratitude, ya feel me? I done took you in when ya mama wasn’t takin’ no care of you, and I done raised you like a son, and you can’t even buy yo’ old man some pizza or some shit?”
Avery rolled his eyes. It took that incredibly long story and all he had to say was that he lifted something and his shoulder started hurting. Trying to get information from old people, he thought, was impossible.
“I see, okay,” Avery said. He patted Carver on that broad, firm back. “Go ahead and lay down on your belly. Take off your shorts please.”
Most men only took off their actual shorts, not their underwear. Even the ones who knew Avery would give them a handjob didn’t do that. But for some reason, Carver did, without a second thought.
He just dropped his shorts and his boxers, and flopped his limp dick between his fingers. “You ain’t gonna try and jack me off, is you?”
“No, sir,” Avery said. He was deflated. Obviously that clued him in that Carver was in the no-handjob camp. Avery almost added: unless you want me to but he thought that might not go over very well, so he bit his tongue.
“Shit, I don’t do that handjob nonsense. Man, that is some weakling bullshit,” he said. “I got real man dick, ya feel me? I got homeboy-dick.” He flopped his hefty shaft against his palm, then climbed up onto the massage table.
His back stretched out, his asscheeks bare and quivering as he settled into place. He had nice, huge plump cheeks, not perfect, just slightly fleshy and saggy, just the perfect amount, Avery thought, enough to grab onto and play with but not fat or flabby. He wanted to kiss each cheek.
“Man, I need this shit, damn. Wifey don’t touch me much these days, swear to God,” he said as Avery began kneading his back and his thick muscles. He rolled his spine, undulating as though trying to massage his own back on Avery’s hands.
He had that dense muscularity that barrel-chested men had, and which Avery adored. It felt like there were layer after layer of meaty muscle atop Carver’s body, and Avery caressed every inch of it.
“How’s that feel?”
“Good….” Carver said, letting out a deep roaring moan.
“Okay, you can roll over,” Avery said.
Carver hesitated. “Hey, so, uh… I don’t wanna, like… I mean, I ain’t mean nothin’ by it, but you know… I got a big dick and I get hard at anything, man, I swear, like a homeboy half my age. I ain’t meanin’ nothin’. I ain’t sayin’ I is gonna ramrod you or nothin’.”
“Oh? Do you have an erection? That’s okay, it’s very common,” Avery said.
Carver grimaced as he rolled over. His foot-long cock throbbed, as hard as his muscles beneath all his padding. That was not as common as Avery had implied — sure a little chubby here and there was normal, but a full-on throbbing boner? That was not typical.
As professionally as he could muster and without looking at Carver’s dick, Avery massaged his chest and his shoulders. Carver closed his eyes. He grunted like he was frustrated.
“Man, lemme show you a spot… Okay?” Carver’s callused paw gripped Avery’s hand.
Avery sucked in his breath. Carver brought Avery’s hand down to his cock. His fingers brushed against it. Carver opened his eyes wide.
“I thought you didn’t want me to… Do you…?” Avery blushed, his heart thumping.
“Ssssssh… I don’t wanna hear you askin’ no questions,” Carver said. “I said I don’t want no handjob, cuz I’m a real man. That don’t mean you can’t touch it a bit.” He gently touched Avery’s head. “You act a sissy, right?”
Avery nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He licked his lips. “Goddamn, I love it when whiteboys call me sir.” He watched as Avery’s hand wrapped around his cock and began stroking. Carver instantly threw his head back, sighed and pistoned his hips, forcing his dick up and into Avery’s hand.
He kept touching Avery’s head. It was obvious he wanted Avery’s mouth, but didn’t want to ask for it. Avery slowly lowered his head. He pretended to be hesitant, like he had never done it before. “Do you want me… to put my mouth on it?”
“Shush, no questions, boy. Just do what comes natural. You the massager, you know how to do it. Just massage me, okay? Massage me like you feel-” He groaned as Avery’s mouth touched his dick.
He guided Avery’s head as he licked the shaft, then suckled on the tip, making lots of spit drip down into Carver’s crotch. Avery deep-throated him the best he could.
Carver’s hand remained on his head, pushing and pulling him up and down. It soon became apparent he wanted Avery to focus on the underside of his shaft.
“Yeah, lick it down real low, man, lick it real low,” Carver said with a throaty moan.
Avery did so. He placed his head underneath Carver’s big black cock, which flopped all over his face. He licked and slathered spit on the throbbing vein there, near the base of his dick where it met his scrotum.
“Hmmm… You doin’ real good, boy, just keep slurpin’. Do what comes natural to ya. I know you like dick, right? You like balls too, most likely, I ‘xpect,” he said. He moistly sucked on his lower lip, making his salt-and-pepper goatee shake.
Does he want me to lick his balls? That seemed to be where he was pushing Avery’s head, so Avery obliged. They were big and full, ripe, moist with sweat and precum. He tasted salty and delicious. Avery guzzled it down and let his mouth with fill with that heavy sac, until his nose was pressed into the base of his shaft.
“Hmm, you got it, you got it good, boy, hell…”
Then in one smooth motion, without a word of warning, Carver lifted his legs. He was laying on his back, and he lifted his giant trunk-like thighs. That gave Avery easy access to Carver’s balls.
And his taint and his asshole. Does he want a rimjob now?
Avery did it. He licked a trail down Carver’s taint to his ass and plowed his tongue right in. Carver shuddered and moaned.
“I ain’t say you could lick my butthole, boy,” he said. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look down. He grabbed Avery by the hair and made eye contact with him. “I’ll allow it this time, but I don’t let no one play wit’ my butthole. No fingers.”
Avery nodded. He was definitely trying to get me to lick his ass, he thought. What game is Carver playing? But for now, he just licked
Carver’s ass was warm and funky and just slightly hairy, just enough to remind Avery he was licking a man. Still though, he sensed Carver wasn’t quite done. Carver was waiting for something. When Avery tried to jack him off as he lapped at his asshole, Carver swatted his hand away.
Does he want to ramrod me? Avery was excited at the prospect.
Carver took Avery’s hand in his once more, taking it away from his cock and to his ass. He seemed to want Avery to spread his cheeks to get his tongue deeper in there.
“Don’t you dare finger me, sissy,” Carver said with a knowing smirk on his face.
Avery caught that smirk and stopped licking for a moment. Was Carver hinting the opposite of what he said? His face looked sarcastic. Did he want to get fingered? He dragged Avery’s finger closer to his ass.
“There ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ gettin’ pleasure, boy,” Carver said. “I can get pleasure from all kinda females. Ya know? They do… different things.”
“Hmm-hmm.” Avery pulled off his asshole and slurped up all the moisture that leaked out of his tight hole. “Did you want me-?”
“No questions. Just do what comes natural, sissy. If I don’t like it, I will smack the tongue outta yo’ mouth,” he said, with a moist, gravelly mouth.
“I…” Avery wasn’t sure what to do or say. He resumed licking, but this time he planted his finger very near Carver’s hole. He played with the rim, just pressing down lightly.
Carver again pushed his hand, just a tiny bit, pushing his finger a half-inch lower.
That made Avery’s fingertip slip into Carver’s ass. Carver grunted and groaned, his whole body coming alive. He writhed in exquisite pleasure. Carver closed his eyes and covered his eyes with his arm, which bared his big furry armpit.
“Hmm, whiteboy, I like the way you think. Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ gettin’ a nut off in strange places, is there? Nosuh, nothin’ wrong wit’ that at all.” He sucked in his breath as Avery’s entire pinkie finger slid into his ass.
His ass is definitely not intact, Avery thought. He kept fingering Carver with one pinkie while jacking him off with his other hand. It made him giggle to think his tiny pinkie finger could bring such intense pleasure to such a large man.
He found Carver’s prostate and pressed, making Carver’s whole body quiver and flex. Carver sucked in his breath.
“You got a big dick, sissy?”
Avery blushed and looked up from Carver’s ass. His voice was shaky. “Uh… Not… huge, I guess. It’s… normal.”
Carver grunted as though he didn’t care. “I know you wanna bring it out. Don’t me stop you. Don’t you dare try and stick it in my ass. I ain’t on the DL.”
Now what was this? Given everything that had happened up to now, the only reasonable explanation was that Carver wanted to take dick in his ass.
But surely that wasn’t it.
Regardless, Avery did take his dick out and gave it a few strokes. He was ready to bust any time. He kept licking and fingering Carver’s ass, using both pinkies now, not even stroking him off. Carver had both hands behind his head.
“Shit, man, that little whiteboy dick ain’t barely bigger than yo’ pinkie,” Carver said. “Wouldn’t hurt at all to take that in.”
That had to be a sign. First of all, Carver hadn’t even looked. He didn’t know how big Avery’s dick was. Secondly, Avery’s dick was much bigger than any pinkie finger. He didn’t have a giant dick like Carver, but he was certainly way bigger than a pinkie finger.
He wants to get cornholed.
“Have you ever… y’know… been cornholed?” Avery asked. He blushed.
“I done ramrod some prison bitches and certain disreputable mothahfuckahs who needed to get taught a lesson,” Carver said. He chuckled, making his whole body writhe and clench around Avery’s fingers.
“So you don’t want to… get ramrodded now?”
“Man, yo’ questions is ruinin’ the mood. I said no questions,” Carver said. “I ain’t a bumbasher.”
Avery frowned. He still didn’t have a clear answer. Was a bumbasher a sissy? Or a ramrod? Either way, it wasn’t an answer to the question. “So if I started to put my dick near your ass, like this-” He stood up excruciatingly slowly and wedged his dick into Carver’s asscheeks. “You’d stop me if you were going to hit me for doing it?”
“I ain’t some kinda bashful homeboy. I will beat yo’ ass if you even think ’bout makin’ me into yo’ bitch,” Carver said, his eyes scrunched tightly shut. He closed his eyes, reached for his own ass and gripped Avery’s cock. He guided it to his hole. “You gonna stick it in, sissy?”
Avery thought the more he said, the less likely Carver was to keep going. So he just shrugged and slipped the tip of his dick in. Carver’s hairy tree-like thighs trembled. He had been holding them aloft for a long time, but he showed no signs of being exhausted.
With a stool to stand on, Avery was able to slowly drill his cock in. Carver squirmed and writhed as though he was already on the verge of pleasure — obviously, Avery thought, Carver loved the butt-stuff.
“Have you ever been ramrodded before-?”
“Hey!” Carver barked, wincing because that made his ass move painfully around Avery’s dick. “Hey! I ain’t nevuh get ramrodded, no way. I got… I got pleasures deep inside me, and yeah, I let mothahfuckahs go diggin’ for ’em…” He smiled like he was imagining it, and he even touched Avery’s chest as though there might be breasts there. “You pretty as pink, boy. I can forgive you not having titties. But remember, no way am I lettin’ you ram me — I got anal integrity, yessuh! I will let you… you know… when we in the throes of passion, boy, rules don’t apply. Don’t you dare go thinkin’-” He howled as Avery’s dick slipped the rest of the way in. “C’mon, boy, slam it in. Work it!”
Avery tried to plow him hard. But Carver was so much bigger than him that it was awkward, and Avery had to hold onto his legs for support. He pushed his meat in, using all of his might to keep Carver’s massive flesh in position.
He stroked Carver off at the same time, making it hard for Carver to stay still. He squirmed and gasped and bit his lip, undulating beneath Avery. Avery had never rammed anyone like this — not anyone that old, anyone that strong, anyone that macho.
He had never even thought this might be where his appointment with Carver Weatherbee would go.
It was obvious Carver was aroused because he shot his wad before Avery. Avery was still plowing into him over and over, making his big asscheeks shake. He felt Carver’s hole clench around him, and Carver let out a bellowing scream.
He gripped Avery by the neck and pulled him roughly down to his face. He kissed Avery on the mouth, tongue ramming violently in as Carver sprayed his cumwad all over his belly. Carver gagged too, from the taste of his own ass still clinging to Avery’s face, but that didn’t slow him down any. He kept on kissing as Avery plowed in and out of his ass.
At last, Avery orgasmed too, his tongue still intertwined in Carver’s. Carver’s goatee scratched at his face.
Great creamy gobs of cum filled Carver’s tight ass, more and more pouring out with each thrust of Avery’s hips. He slammed into Carver over and over — it was nice to plow such a big man, Avery thought, because he could really take a pounding.
“Ah, god-“
“Fuck yeah, whiteboy! Get it in there!” Carver slammed his fists on his chest and screamed in both pain and pleasure.
Avery shot the biggest load of his life. He’d never done anything like that. It made him scream and shout too, but his voice was much weaker than Carver’s.
Then, it was done. Avery blinked a few times, still in shock that this had even happened. His dick limpened slowly. He let it pour out of Carver’s ass, which gripped it as though not going to let go, even though Carver gritted his teeth and growled as though he wanted Avery to pull out faster.
“Ah, shit, whiteboy…”
Every inch sliding out of his ass was exquisite pleasure for both of them. Carver’s heart pounded, his whole body tensing and shaking until at last, Avery’s dick plopped out.
Carver was suddenly exhausted. He closed his eyes. His legs flopped down, nearly knocking Avery to the floor. Carver sprawled out on the massage table, arms dangling off the sides.
“Hmmm… You okay?” Avery asked.
“Hmm-hmm. You give a good massage,” Carver said. He didn’t open his eyes though. Avery got some tissues and wiped Carver’s dick clean, and then he rolled over so Avery could clean his ass.
“Thanks,” Avery said. He blushed. Carver looked like he wanted to take a nap. “Uh… did you…-?”
Carver sighed and stood. He looked down at his massive dick, dangling between his legs, and he winced at the pain in his ass. “Hey, boy, if I send you some homeboys. Boxers — they won’t all be homeboys, some’ll be Puerto Rican,” he said. “Would you take care of ’em?”
“Take care of them how?”
“You’ll see. Just do what comes natural, boy,” Carver said. He took his clothes in hand and walked out, not even getting dressed. His dick swung, still a bit hard, thwacking his meaty thighs. He sniffed his own armpit and wrinkled his nose. “Need a shower, damn…” he murmured to no one in particular.
Avery was too exhausted to tell him to put his clothes on before leaving the building. He didn’t care. Carver would figure it out, he thought, and after that tense encounter, Avery just wanted to nap.
Luckily he had no clients for a couple hours. Just as luckily, Avery was already excited about the prospect of a bevy of boxers coming through. What did Carver expect him to do with them? Avery could imagine he meant anything from giving a real massage to plowing them hard.
Oh well, he figured. I’ll enjoy anything in between there.

The Gloryhole

Patrick is working as a roughneck at an oil drill site in North Dakota and enduring the hazing and horseplay that comes with the job… But that all changes when a gloryhole appears, and the workers and rednecks he labors alongside all have a filthy chance to get their motors revving.
Can Patrick perform in front of the others?

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It was Patrick’s first time working as a roughneck, but he hoped that wasn’t obvious. Some people knew, of course, but Patrick kept to himself. He didn’t want to stand out like a rookie because he knew places like this often hazing their newbies.
He wasn’t opposed to hazing, mind you, he’d do what he had to do to fit in. The best way to get the worst of it was to stand out from the crowd, so he intended to go with the flow.
Normally, Patrick always stood out in any crowd because he was six and a half feet tall, and he was built like a linebacker. He was, in fact, a semi-pro linebacker, three hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle. Not that he had a six-pack, he wasn’t that cut, but compared to most of the men on Site G9, he was built like a gym. The others were mostly older, scruffier and either much fatter or skinnier, and definitely hairier.
Patrick felt young. He had never been nervous about being naked in a group until he got to the oil drill site. He realized only as he stripped off his clothes in a ridiculously crowded rig locker room that he reason he had never been nervous as a football player was that the men he changed alongside were his teammates he knew well and that they were around his own age.
But some of these roughnecks had fought in wars. There were bikers, meth-dealers, convicted murderers released after decades in prison, disgraced cops, a gaggle of men were from some indigenous tribe in the Amazon. They were craggy and stronger than Patrick even when their muscles were smaller. They had bulletwound scars and missing toes and silver-tinged chest hair that extended over their shoulders and onto their back. Nobody on Patrick’s football team had back hair.
It was one of those, a biker named Cooter who first touched Patrick’s dick.
It felt silly to make a big deal out of it, so Patrick didn’t. In the showers, it didn’t count. That’s what everyone said working on the drill site. That was like a motto.
Cooter with the broad shoulders and mat of silver chest fur over a barrel-shaped body wrapped one hairy arm around Patrick’s smooth back. “You’re a big hoss, huh? Saw you out there hauling lineboxes like a madman, good on ya,” he said. He gripped Patrick’s dick for just a half-second. He didn’t stroke it, and he made a point of not touching his balls — he lifted up Patrick’s cock and hefted it as though to make sure it was real.
Patrick sucked in his breath. In his semi-pro football league, if you accidentally touched someone’s dick, you had to shout “no pansy!” They did it even if they just brushed near it, or you accidentally touched someone’s pubic hair. Patrick gulped. He would have asked Cooter not to touch his cock again, but it was over before it began, and Cooter moved on. Patrick felt someone else’s chest hair rub on his back, and he closed his eyes rather than try to figure out who it was.
Cooter was very hairy. Patrick had always thought of himself as hairy too — some of his college teammates called him an ape because of all his chest hair. But Cooter and some of the others here, relatively old men, middle-aged guys, a lot of them had really hairy chests and bellies, and sometimes even backs. Old guys with muscular bodies were scary, Patrick thought.
There was a tattoo of a disemboweled man on Cooter’s belly. Patrick couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. Was the disemboweled man a cop? Patrick closed his eyes. Something about the scene looked oddly specific, as though it illustrated a real event.
“Come on, man, let’s wash this shit off!” Cooter again wrapped a hand around Patrick’s body and led him into the shower. Cooter was drenched in engine grease because he worked on the internal combustion coils. Somebody else slapped Patrick’s ass too, a lanky black Jamaican who leered at him as they all filed into the shower.
Patrick gulped. This was the nerve-wracking part. The shower. It was well-lit and cleaner than Patrick had expected — he was picturing something mildewy and dank like a prison shower. This wasn’t that bad, aside from the astoundingly cramped quarters.
It was obvious why that “no pansy” rule that applied on the team didn’t apply here. The locker rooms for semi-pro football teams (usually college stadiums and the attached athletic departments) were roomy and spacious. But here, the shower fit twenty or so but would have been cramped with ten.
As soon as Patrick entered, he felt limps dicks rubbing over his thighs and his ass, along wiry pubic hair, copious chest hair and frizzy beard hairs, and the smell of unwashed male armpits and ballsacs filled his nostrils. The only thing more disconcerting was that his own cock caressed Cooter’s ass — and Cooter’s ass-hair — as they filed into the shower. Patrick was terrified that he would get hard.
Despite all that, they were more or less nice — Patrick was surprised. He kind of thought there’d be fights, and maybe more, in the shower. But there was a lot of horseplay, whipping towels at each other, pretending to jack off on each other, that kind of thing, but no real fighting in the shower.
It was during that night, however, when things got real.
Men jacked off openly here. They just lay back in their bunk, which were stacked five high, with barely room to roll around in, and stroked it. Not under the covers or anything, they straight-up stroked it.
The lights were off, but there was emergency lighting out in the hall. The barrack was a long thin room with rows of bunks. The emergency lighting filtered in through the doors and kept the entire room illuminated enough that Patrick could see men pounding their meat.
Patrick resolved to pretend he hadn’t noticed. There was no way he would ever get hard enough to jack off in full view of a bunch of strangers like that. He rolled over and went to sleep, ignoring the smell of sour cum blooming in the air.
That continued for a few days. No one ever remarked on it, not even when it smelled rank of cum when they all woke up. He saw one middle-aged black man with creamy white cum dried on his belly when they all got dressed. Patrick tried to just stay quiet and fit in. He wasn’t going to be here for long.
But he got so horny. Soon he was getting random erections, for seemingly no reason. He’d never gone this long without fucking a woman.
That was when the hole appeared. He heard vague chatter about it, and when his shift was over, he and the others all went to check it out.
It was a gloryhole.
They said it was a woman who loved cock. Yes, a woman, name unknown, who sucked any dick a roughneck shoved through the gloryhole. Patrick thought that sounded like a cover – no one had ever seen “her”.
But supposedly, she came to the rig every once in awhile, drilled a hole in the middle of the night and stayed in some hidden chamber, ready to jerk off any cock that came through the hole. She was a pretty blonde woman who loved cock but didn’t want anyone to know, she was a fine Egyptian lady with a tongue for jizz, she was a Japanese lass or an Irish redhead, an Aussie with an insatiable appetite for cock. The rumors were hot and fast, and Patrick wasn’t sure if anyone believed any of it. They claimed they believed it, but they claimed it with a wink and a nod, not like something they really believed in.
The man on the side of the hole was named Rob. He had never spread a rumor that he was a woman. He would have gladly spoken to any of the roughnecks who he jerked off and would have told them he was a man. But he’d learned long ago that the best way to get men like these to let him handle their meat was to just make a gloryhole, hang out and wait.
Sure enough, one fat cock had popped through almost right away. He had recognized that as Barry Bagley, who was the convicted murderer Patrick had heard worked on the rig. Barry was a middle-aged man with gray hair and a powerful body like a painting of Zeus. He had been a prison boxer until he had been paroled this year, and the rig was the only place that would hire him — he wasn’t allowed to leave the state, which greatly reduced the options that were open to him.
Luckily, he had gotten used to being serviced by men behind bars. Doing it through a gloryhole was nicer than in person, and the man on the other end — Barry was not one who liked to pretend it was a woman — had nice, softer lips and a moister mouth than any of the men who had jerked him off in prison. The gloryhole mouth went down deep too, noze nuzzling into his crotch, eagerly, smooching it, slurping on it, hocking up massive loogies and choking up saliva by the mouthful to let it run down his sensitive shaft.
It was toe-curlingly good dome.
There was something alluring about not being able to hold onto the man’s head too. It seemed worse. Barry wished, while it was going on and while he got hard, that he could grab Rob’s head and plow in, ramming as hard as he could. But he wasn’t able to do that with the solid steel wall of the supply closet in the way. He could only try to grip the smooth surface while bucking his hips to ram the hole the best he could.
“Goddamn, Rob, you got mouth like liquid silk, boy, goddamn…” Barry sighed. He belched loudly as he finally orgasmed, and the moist sound of his cumwad overflowing filled the air. He knew he was first to use this particular hole, so he liked to make a big frothy mess that spilled out and dried on the stainless steel — which wasn’t stainless when it came to cum.
He pulled out, peered through the hole and suppressed a gag at the sight of Rob’s open mouth, full of creamy, snotty cum. Barry walked away with his dick still dangling between his legs, workjeans unbuttoned and unzipped.
“Hole’s open, boys,” Barry said to each of the groups of men as he passed them.
They all snickered, exchanging knowing glances at the sight of Barry’s foot-long cock. The more time they spent on the rig without any leave, the more often all of them found excuses to walk around naked. What started out as a bunch of awkward men who mostly didn’t know each other became a group of not-quite friends who had seen, and probably rubbed against, every part of each other’s bodies. So it seemed silly to rush to put their cocks away or to pretend to hide masturbating.
Not that anyone wanted to jack off now that there was a hole available. Rob handled dick better than any of the women at Madame Rosa Sumillo’s house — she was the brothel owner whose girls mainly catered to the rig’s workers on leave, in the tiny town of Onagnok. They were beautiful and willing and they had parts that jiggled in all the right ways. Patrick’s ears burned hearing the other roughnecks’s wau-wau about the dirty things they did.
No leave for three weeks though. It felt like forever in the future.
So when Patrick finally realized what they meant about a hole appearing, he was eager to do it. That eagerness vanished when he realized there was a line. The closet was barely big enough for two people, but there were five or six in there, and five or six more stroking their cocks outside the closet getting ready.
“You wanna take a spot in line?” Cooter asked, motioning for Patrick to stand beside him.
Patrick did so. He wanted to leave and come back later, when there was no line — and hopefully when Rob had wiped down the hole, because Patrick didn’t really want to touch another man’s cum. But he was too horny to stop, and he could already feel his dick getting hard. Despite the smell of male armpits and bodyhair and both fresh and stale cum, Patrick was getting hard just at the thought of getting his nut off.
He had no sooner stood there beside Cooter that Patrick heard a man’s deep-throated moan of orgasm. It sent a chill up Patrick’s spine. That was Lem Staggerman, who cackled like it was a big joke as cum sprayed into the hole. He felt his balls slap against the steel and was disgusted — he knew there was oozing cumloads right there, now no doubt sticking to his ballsac. Lem had a thick body and a thicker cock, thick enough that some of the whores at Madame Sumillo’s house of sin refused to see him. They said he stretched them out for other men.
That was the kind of thing Lem liked to hear. Rob had had to widen the gloryhole for him too. Lem was getting splinters on his dingadingdoo, but it fit just right now, and Rob went to town all over it. Lem’s whole body tensed up, his work-carved muscles undulating and flexing as he pounded at the gloryhole with all his might.
Rob opened his mouth to show the cumwad filling it up, but the men were in too much of a hurry to even check. Lem was followed by his another of the drill site’s black men, Kale, whose fat cock barely fit in the hole.
“Ah, nasty, I heard that shit splash in her mouth,” Kale said. “She’s so foul…” He chuckled, pounding on the steel, eyes opening wide as his cock rocketed to full erection. Kale was one of those who was well aware that Rob was a man. But he had been unsure the first time he did it. A part of him knew it felt like a man, but he had been told it was a woman and Kale had been just horny enough not to question that.
If he had known it was a man, he’d have refused to do it back then, and he’d have probably never worked up the nerve. His buddies in his old hood would never let him live it down if they found out. As long as he could pretend he had no idea it was a man, however, he could do it without compunctions, without worrying about Lem’s creamy load sticking to his pubic hair, without thinking about Albert Spackle’s cock, half-hard already, rubbing against Kale’s ass.
Cooter was in the closet by then, as Kale shot his wad, and the line kept moving. Then Albert went, and he had been dry-humping Kale’s ass — no one talked about any accidental contact in the closet, that was a major faux pas — so he shot his wad quickly. Albert always did that. He liked to be efficient.
A shiver of anticipation ran up Patrick’s spine. One of those indigenous Brazilian men was behind him now, erect cock so close Patrick could feel his body heat. When he stepped into the closet, the Brazilian behind him did too, cramming in so that his dick touched Patrick’s thigh. It was hot and throbbing, and it rubbed against Patrick’s well-muscled leg.
“Sorry, I’m too horny to wait…” the Brazilian murmured. Patrick rotated his body, panicking that he was about to be ramrodded — no one had suggested that was a possibility here, it just felt too much like a prison to dismiss it as a concern — so that his ass no longer faced the Brazilian.
But that meant their cocks touched. It looked deliberate. Patrick sucked in his breath. “Oh, sorry, man-“
“Ssssssh, it is okay, yes? We are in the darkness,” the Brazilian chuckled. “Ees okay, does not count, man…” But he thwacked his dick on Patrick’s hot shaft. Then he grabbed both dicks in one hand and stroked them both together — frotting, the other roughnecks called it —his chuckle turned into a laugh at the shocked, turned-off expression on Patrick’s face.
The Brazilian’s cock wasn’t especially big, even rock-hard, as he rubbed it aggressively. Patrick was certain the feel of it touching him made him lose his hardon. He was wrong, but he was certain of it, and he couldn’t see and wouldn’t touch it, so he had no way of knowing. Precum jetted out into Patrick’s pubes, and the Brazilian roughneck’s breathing grew labored.
‘Is he gonna cum on me?’ Patrick wasn’t sure if he would be expected to fight the indigenous Brazilian if that happened or not.
That continued until the next man shot his wad, then turned around and walked out. He walked right between Patrick and the Brazilian — whose name he had never learned — so their erect dicks touched his hairy redneck thighs. Patrick gulped. In the closet, it seemed, anything really did go.
Cooter was in the hole now. He growled and rumbled, pounding his fists on the steel. “Hey, Patrick, new man, you wanna lick my asshole? Huh? Go ahead, I’ll let ya-“
They all laughed hard, and Patrick blushed. “No!” he raced to say, even though he knew that made him look defensive.
“You sure?” Cooter wasn’t even looking at the hole now, his head craned around to look at Patrick.
The other guys in the closet saw how nervous the question made Patrick and kept asking. “You sure? Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ givin’ a little rimjob-“
“Yeah, or a big rimjob. Filthy, for sure. Cooter got greasy ass, you know that!”
“Go’n and give us a lick, man, we love you forevuh for it-“
“Ain’t nothin’ dirty ’bout it.”
“No! No way,” Patrick laughed, hoping he sounded nonchalant. It was hard to think with his erect dick still touching the Brazilian man’s dick. It was uncut, and it seemed to have way too much skin, Patrick thought. He gulped and closed his eyes.
He considered leaving. It would be embarrassing, but staying was embarrassing as well. If he left, they’d tease him the same they teased him now — the only difference would be that Patrick didn’t get dome. Patrick realized only now that his own hardon had not deflated the least bit, despite the Brazilian’s hardon rubbing on it. Or maybe because of it. It did feel kinda good, in a massage-y kinda way. It was hot and stiff and it pulsated lightly like a massage wand.
Patrick didn’t want to share that observation with anyone.
So when Cooter shot his wad into the hole, Patrick decided to fit in the best he could. He got up behind Cooter, dick rubbing against Cooter’s hairy ass, and murmured, “You done yet, redneck?”
“Get the fuck off me!” Cooter said, angry and laughing at the same time, his orgasm still finishing. As he leaned back, he grabbed Patrick’s cock — making Patrick suck in his breath — and guided it to the hole. Their dicks touched, and Patrick felt the gooey, sticky ooze of cum and spit and precum and who-knew-what-else.
It only lasted a moment. But Patrick felt like he was dripping with Cooter’s cum and his filthy redneck sweat. That Brazilian man was right up behind him, stroking himself furiously for a few seconds, his fist hitting Patrick’s ass with each stroke, then let go when he realized he was going to cum too quickly if he kept jacking off. He was just keeping hard while he waited for his turn.
There was another cock on his hand — was someone trying to get him to touch another man’s dick? Patrick closed his eyes and touched the wall, as his cock finally slipped in by itself. He realized then that this was why all of them thus far had stayed against the wall as they got serviced — it was the best way to stop touching the handful of men who crowded into the closet. They all pushed in close behind him, and Patrick felt their mnahoods and their body hair and their precum leaving a layer of sweaty filth on his smooth back.
“Oh god…” Patrick was shocked that it felt this good. He had been so nervous about doing it that he didn’t give much consideration to how it would feel. He just thought he’d blow his nut and finally stop thinking about sex all the damn time.
But this was amazing!
Rob swallowed him down to the root, all in one smooth motion, with no struggle at all. Patrick had never had anyone deep-throat him like that.
“Oooooh, oh — aaaaah, shit, goddamn — ah-” Patrick laughed, which again he realized happened for the same reason the others had laughed before him — it made this seem more like a joke than the rather dirty sex act it really was. Plus nobody wanted to sound like some naif busting a nut for the first time and not knowing what it was supposed to be like.
His dick throbbed in Rob’s throat. Rob had sensed that this was a new man. He was very good at distinguishing between cocks. He remembered Cooter’s dick, for example, from a different rig owned by a different company. He didn’t know Cooter’s name, but he knew his cock.
Patrick was fresh, unserviced, and Rob tried to give him an experience to remember. He gurgled and guzzled, his nose even extending into the gloryhole, ensconced in Patrick’s unkempt pubic bush. His tongue battered his erection, which throbbed in Rob’s mouth.
Someone was touching Patrick’s back now, and he didn’t mind it. He was as surprised as anyone could be. He kind of liked the broad hairy muscles of that unnamed Brazilian man behind him, his hot cock throbbing between Patrick’s legs.
Patrick got it now. He could have gotten himself hard rubbing his dick between Cooter’s hot asscheeks — they were hairy though weren’t they? Patrick laughed quietly at the thought that he was going to have to check that during the next shower. He’d have to find someone with a nice smooth ass whose cheeks were very humpable — maybe that indigenous Brazilian, who had no body hair at all — and Patrick would try to slip in behind him next time.
“Ah, shit…” Patrick let out a long, deep moan that echoed and made the other guys in the closet burst into uproarious applause. They had all gathered that Patrick had never done this before, so they liked to embarrass him, pinching his ass when he twitched and shook.
Creamy cum flowed down Rob’s throat, and he swallowed every drop. It was salty and warm, and a little grassy as though Patrick had absorbed the flavor of the turf he played football on. Rob didn’t let go even when Patrick was done shooting and Rob’s lungs cried out for oxygen.
He waited for Patrick to pull out, his muscles all flexing at once, letting out the roar of a champion, as he did when his team had just scored a touchdown. It was a similar, victorious thrill. He knew that wasn’t entirely logical — it wasn’t like he had done anything that required any tremendous skill.
But he had gotten it. He was no longer some young pup hoping no one figured out he was new around here. He had a confident lilt to his step, and when you knew you were tough, like he did, there was no reason to be squeamish about the Brazilian man’s precum and dickcheese sitting on his ass.
‘I’m about to go take a shower anyway’, he thought as he headed into the shower. He wasn’t nervous about crowding in there either. He had nothing to be ashamed of. He was just one real man among many. He laughed and groped his coworkers as a joke, even circlejerking with them before his next leave.
He was no longer a rookie, he was a roughneck.

The Repairman

Rob is hiring another handyman, this time to fix his air conditioner. When he ends up with the hunky Bellamy Harshfield and his studly grandfather Lyle, Rob knew which one he liked best… Rob likes his meat finely aged, so before he knows it, he’s on his knees! Can Bellamy handle his handsomeness being rejected for his grandfather’s alpha-male manhood?!

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Rob took a nervous step back, his heart pounding. The two repairmen came into his house, and he felt a few tinges of sweat on his brow. His plan was working as intended. After accidentally getting the wrong repairmen a couple times, he had been worried it would happen again. But these two were Bellamy and Lyle Harshfield, exactly whom he had been hoping for.
They talked — and Rob responded a bit without paying much attention — about the air conditioner. It wasn’t working. It was sweltering in here, and Rob was glad to see them. But he was glad, not just because the air conditioner should start working soon, but also because they were both hot.
The younger one was Bellamy Harshfield, and he was a gorgeous dreamboat: blond, dimpled, smooth-cheeked, no doubt apple-bottomed and with a cock to match. He was nineteen, just barely, and he had all the vim and vigor befitting a man of that age. He was sprightly, ropy muscled like an old sailor, like he retained all the power of a younger man but had it condensed into these compact limbs that still had room for a little padding.
But Rob had no interest in young studs like Bellamy. Bellamy probably had a legion of pretty girls chasing him around with their tits flopping about. Rob wasn’t interested in men like him, women could have them.
He liked the older one, Lyle, who was not just a bit older — he was Bellamy’s step-grandfather. He was gloriously imperfect in his dad-bod, which brimmed with muscle and power even if he wasn’t carved out of alabaster like Bellamy. His body crammed more muscle into a smaller frame, giving him a dense and meaty look. Lyle was shorter, hairier, with fuzz sticking out from under his dingy old tee shirt, extending up to his shoulders. He was balding, and he was thick-bodied — so was Bellamy, but Lyle had more of a squarish shape, like he had gotten so big for so long his body no longer knew what to do with the muscle he had grown. His hair was dirty-blond too, just like Bellamy’s, but now grayish and thin unlike Bellamy’s dense shock of action-hero hair.
They went to the air conditioner just outside the house, and Rob hung around inside, positioning himself so he could see them. Lyle attracted all of his attention. He bent over to inspect the air conditioner, showing Bellamy what he saw and explaining how to fix it.
“Hold this!” Lyle said with a snarl — Bellamy had failed to pay close enough attention, and now Lyle was in a bad mood. “You damn fool boy, quit messin’ around.”
“Sorry, Gramps,” Bellamy said with a sigh. He took his cell phone out and peered at it, trying to look like he still paid attention to Lyle even while he texted a girl.
“This here is the intake valve. Most of the time when they go kaput like this, without a smoke or a smell — or a — hey, boy, you put that motherfuckin’ game boy down and pay attention-“
“It ain’t a Game Boy, Gramps. No one’s played Game Boys for like twenty years-“
“That was what ya Pa used to play-“
“Yeah, I know, Gramps. It’s cool. I know how to tighten a valve,” Bellamy said with a scoff. He ran his fingers through his hair.
“Oh?” He handed the wrench to Bellamy, who took it hesitantly. He hefted the wrench in one hand. Then Lyle ran his own fingers through his hair, just like his step-grandson had moments before. Lyle’s hair was thinner though, like his forehead was mugging his scalp very slowly, and he ran his fingers through the threadbare patch as though he was used to having more hair than he actually had.
Bellamy approached the air conditioner. He tried to attach the wrench, but Lyle rolled his eyes and sighed. Bellamy fumbled with it until Lyle bent over to help again.
“There,” Lyle said. “You best pay attention, son. I am teachin’ you a trade. You know when I was growin’ up, this was the only way to learn a skill. Men fought over the chance to learn this kinda shit.”
“That’s cuz no one had invented books yet, Gramps!” Bellamy said, chuckling. “You had to ask your local lord for permission to learn how to read-“
“Oh, hush your face,” Lyle said. He tightened the valve himself. “You know, if you would ever apply your goddamn fool self you could maybe learn a little something, make a life for yourself-“
“Gramps, come on, I’ve got a life for myself. I’ve got like two thousand instagram followers who are into my sick abs,” Bellamy said. He lifted up his shirt to show off his perfect six-pack. He ran his fingers up the ridges of muscle there. “See?”
“Used to be only girls worried about their bellies.”
“In the olden days! I don’t wanna be fat! It’s bad for you, Gramps!”
“You been hanging out with that foolish girl with green hair-“
“She’s my girlfriend, Gramps, her name is Meredith and I love her-“
“Then put a ring on it!”
“Give me a ring!” Bellamy said. He threw his hands in the air.
Lyle scoffed and waved his grandson away. He returned to fixing the air conditioner. His hairy arms flexed, gleaming with sweat, biceps bulging. Bellamy resumed playing with his phone, ignoring his grandfather who continued to fix the air conditioner. Still inside the house, Rob watched Lyle’s plump granddad-ass sway in his overly baggy jeans — it looked like he had gotten frustrated trying to find jeans that fit according to the style of his youth and had ended up with these preposterously baggy jeans that made him look like he beat up a rapper to steal his clothes.
“You don’t know jack-shit about girls nowadays, Gramps. That’s why you never get any pussy-“
“I get plenty of pussy!” Lyle shouted. He grunted. He glanced towards the house and saw Rob. “You’re gonna get a complaint, son. Shut that facehole.”
“You’re the one shouting about pussy.”
“You gonna offend the homeowner-!”
“That homeowner is a sensitive sort, Gramps, he’d scream in terror at the sight of a pussy,” Bellamy said with a laugh. “He’d prolly like you.”
“Nah. Nancy-boys like clean, long-haired guys with pretty faces and doe eyes. He’d probably cotton to you. Maybe you could dump that green-haired communist you been with and hook up wit’ him. At least he got a house,” Lyle said.
“She’s not a communist, she’s a socialist.”
“Ain’t that the same thing?”
“No,” Bellamy said. His voice was unsure though, and it sounded like he could not have explained the difference. “They’re… She has beliefs that are… Just shut up, Gramps.”
“You put a ring on that yet?”
“You know I can’t afford one, I will, I’m savin’ up for it,” Bellamy said. “I’ll have enough by the end of the year.”
“Hey,” Rob said. He came to the door, and they both turned to look at him. He smiled at them both in turn.
“Ya air conditioner should be fixed soon, suh,” Lyle said. He looked down and mumbled a little, like he had never really gotten used to speaking to men so respectfully. “Sorry ‘bout the salty language. My grandson here is a-” He paused, seemingly unable to think of a non-obscene word to use. Finally, he came up with “dumbass”.
Rob smiled. “Don’t worry. It takes a lot more than that to offend me,” he said. “I happened to hear that you needed an engagement ring for your girlfriend?”
Bellamy blushed. “I mean… I ain’t, y’know, sure we gonna get married, or whatever, I mean, you know, I was just sayin’, like, I’m thinkin’ ‘bout — I love her, for real, for sure, man, and she ain’t no communist. I just, I think, I ain’t sure, I wanna like, I mean, I know-“
“Okay, shut up, son, that communist pussy has turned your tongue into a retard,” Lyle said. “You shouldn’t eat so goddamn much —pussy ” He glanced back at Rob again. “Sorry… I mean, vagina…” It sounded like he had possibly never said the word vagina out loud before.
Rob waved that off and took out his phone. “How much do I owe you for the air conditioner?”
“Eighty bucks.”
He activated the PayUp to pay the bill. “Would you two like to earn an extra thousand dollars? You could buy a nice engagement ring for that.”
“Shit, yeah,” Bellamy said.
“Whatevuh you need, suh,” Lyle said.
“Well… I admire a man with a marvelous physique,” Rob said. “So I was wondering, for a thousand dollars-“
“Ha! He want a taste of ya meat, boy!” Lyle said. “You gonna do the prison-tango!” He grabbed for Bellamy’s crotch, but Bellamy blushed and smacked his hand away.
“Gramps, let go!” Bellamy’s mouth was agape.
“You gonna earn that engagement ring the hard way, boy!”
Rob cleared his throat. “I don’t think communists do engagement rings. It’s too bourgeoisie.”
“She’s not communist!”
Rob smiled and squeezed Bellamy’s biceps. “You’re adorable, and I bet your little Maoist girlfriend loves your body-“
“I don’t know what that means, but she’s not a Maoist either.”
“I’m not interested in you though,” Rob said. He turned to Lyle, whose balding head gleamed. His tee-shirt was soaked with sweat even though he hadn’t done much work yet and it wasn’t even too hot outside. Lyle looked at him like he was confused. Rob came closer. “I like my meat finely aged.”
Lyle furrowed his brow.
“You like me?”
Rob nodded. He placed a hand on the waist of Lyle’s jeans. “I like you a lot. So how about you let me take a taste, and I give you a thousand dollars, and if your would-be granddaughter-in-law deserves it, you buy her that engagement ring. Or if not, you can buy her a beet with which she can make borscht,” Rob said. He smacked his lips. “It’s a win-win.”
They were both shocked. Bellamy was so handsome girls threw themselves at him. He’d fucked his math teacher, he nearly banged his way into college, but he ended up going to business with his stupid dad instead. On several occasions, old men had offered him money on the street to give them his undershirt or jockstrap. Bellamy had done some modeling for a local hot tub store.
So Bellamy thought he should be the one Rob paid. It was ridiculous that Rob liked his grandfather. It didn’t quite compute in Bellamy’s mind, and he kept thinking it was a prank. He watched as Rob sunk to his knees in front of Lyle. Lyle was balding, with just a perimeter of faded hair around his head, scalp gleaming with sweat.
Though he tried to hide it, Lyle was just as surprised as Bellamy. If he had known he was the object of Rob’s desire, Lyle would have never responded like he did. He only wanted to embarrass his cocky grandson and make him earn that thousand dollars so he would hurry up and get married. Lyle didn’t know that it was him whom Rob preferred.
“Ah, damn…” Lyle tried to look confident. When he was growing up, things were different. Stuff happened in the YMCA shower. That’s where it all went down back then.
But only really tough guys went around ramrodding freaks in the YMCA shower. Lyle never did. He always thought he could if he got real horny, but he never got over his hangups about it. What if somebody tried to ramrod Lyle? What if he got another man’s cum on his hand? All those things seemed very important back in the 1970s, when Lyle and his fellow factory workers had crowded cock-in-crack into overstuffed showers, teasing each other about who got hard and who had a tiny dick.
Rob popped Lyle’s dick in his mouth. It tasted like old-guy-cock, Rob thought, like old-fashioned unscented bar soap. There was a faintly bitter taste to it and a mark that ran along the shaft — a small scar. It was big and his balls were so heavy and low-hanging that Rob couldn’t help but pop them both in his mouth. His sac was hairy and wrinkled and tasted so good Rob let out a little moan.
“Ah, damn, Gramps, he’s slurpin’ on ya balls, that’s nasty,” Bellamy said. He laughed, and his laughter slowly grew due to his anxiety, until he was red-faced and giggling like a schoolgirl. “He’s eatin’ ya fromunda juice. Oh shit!”
His balls were sour and strongly flavored, with a potent enough flavor to bring tears to Bellamy’s eyes. Rob lazily stroked Lyle’s cock with his other hand, while he savored the flavor of his worksweat-soaked sac, his tongue snaking to tease out every drop of manly juices. Lyle’s shaft was still soft, just barely starting to perk up in rob’s grip. Neither Rob nor Lyle were in any particular hurry.
When Lyle took his shirt off, his dick now totally hard and throbbing in Rob’s mouth, his grandson did the same — a part of Bellamy still didn’t quite understand why Rob would pick Gramps instead of him. He thought maybe Rob just needed to see his perfect six-pack and tapered torso.
Why are you trying to talk him into it? Just be glad he picked Gramps. Bellamy would have felt compelled to agree if Rob had chosen him. There was nothing he couldn’t do with his dick. He brought girls to orgasm in no time. Black girls! Those black girls would never go for Gramps.
Well, the one who was a whore would. But, you know, Gramps wouldn’t make her cum like Bellamy did.
It would have been humiliating to say no to Rob, which was why Bellamy was glad, though indignant, that he wasn’t chosen.
Resuming deep-throating Lyle’s cock, Rob forced that entire rod down his gullet until his nose was nestled in Lyle’s pubic hair. He didn’t trim his pubes, unlike most men these days. Rob appreciated that. Lyle didn’t even know he was old-fashioned for letting his pubic bush grow free. Rob reached up to tweak Lyle’s nipples, making his powerful pecs ripple. Lyle was smaller than his massive grandson, of course, his skin a little shriveled, like a muscular raisin. But those marks and imperfections were precisely what Rob thought was sexy.
He had no interest in a smooth, perfect chest, he liked the meaty realness of Lyle’s body. He was brimming with power, body heat emanating off him, and his body was perfectly padded, giving him just enough flesh for Rob to play with as he handled Lyle’s meat.
When Rob pulled off his dick, he croaked, mouth full of precum, “You taste so good… Hit me with your cock, daddy.” He kept his mouth open and his tongue out. Lyle looked at him like he didn’t want to do it, but he gamely smacked Rob’s tongue and cheeks with his cock.
After doing it a few times, Lyle bristled and puffed up his chest. He couldn’t help but feel good — he had long ago been dumped by a girl because he asked her if he could mollywop her — that was what he called it when you smacked someone in the face with your dick — and she had said yes, then got offended that he did it (she thought it was just another word for a blowjob). Lyle thought it would be hot for her, so he had been offended that she was upset by his cock. It turned into a huge fight that ended the relationship. Seemed silly now.
So Lyle liked doing it now, smacking Rob and watching him chase his cock with his mouth. Then finally Rob got it back on his tongue, slathering spit all up and down the shaft. Lyle leaned his head back and moaned.
Bellamy had backed way up by then. He couldn’t believe he was watching this, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Am I really gonna watch my grandfather bust a nut? He was technically a step-grandfather, no blood relation. But Bellamy still couldn’t bring himself to look away.
Gramps has got a veiny cock. I bet my cock is smoother. Bellamy wanted to ask whether smoother was better, but he wasn’t going to admit he had looked at his grandfather’s dick.
“Hmm… Ram me, please! I need to feel your dick inside me!” Rob hadn’t planned on asking for Lyle to wreck his ass — he didn’t think Lyle would do it with his grandson right there. But he glanced up into Lyle’s sun- and wind-weathered face and saw desire there. He could tell Lyle wanted something more intense.
Sure enough, Lyle was glad to ram him. He snarled like it was a big imposition though. He realized only as Rob bent over with his ass in the air that he should have asked for more money. But now that he had wedged his dick into Rob’s tight ass, there was no way he could get paid for it, now that it was obvious he’d do it for free.
“Fine, boy, I’ll get inside ya-” He turned to Bellamy, who gasped and closed his eyes. “Come closer.” He slapped Bellamy’s cheek. “That’s for actin’ like a right prude, son. Just cuz you ain’t done time don’t mean you gotta act like a nun.”
“Man, Gramps… Was you a booty bandit in prison?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Lyle said. He had never rammed a man in prison, not if you define ‘ram’ in a certain way. He did give a reacharound or two, which ain’t a proper ramming by prison rules. At least prison rules as of back in the day, back when things was proper. He was glad to look tough in front of his grandson, who was so muscular and thick that Lyle sometimes felt inadequate. When he first saw Bellamy getting big and athletic, years ago, he thought he couldn’t wait for the day his grandson was stronger than he was. But now it just made him feel old, and feeling that way made him feel like a selfish, shitty grandfather.
A shock of pleasure shot up Lyle’s spine, reminding him that he was here to ram and make money, not show off to his grandson. He liked that Rob writhed beneath him, submitting to his power like he liked it. Rob grunted and moaned, orgasmic bliss flowing through his veins.
The best part of getting rammed by a huge cock, Rob thought, was how awkward and technically bad it was — Lyle tried to avoid touching Rob more than necessary, and he avoided looking at his own cock too much as it slid into Rob’s ass. That made it a difficult process, with awkward angles and moist grunts in Rob’s ear. It also made it last longer. Rob’s orgasm dragged on as Lyle rammed him hard, stimulating his prostate hard and shooting his wad deeply into Rob’s tight ass.
Bellamy winced and stepped away, still unable to close his eyes or turn his head as he watched both men orgasm. His grandfather bucked and slammed into Rob, both of them going to the floor, where Rob squirmed beneath Lyle’s body. Exquisite sensations wracked Lyle’s muscles and Rob’s more delicate frame.
It felt better than Rob was expecting. Lyle’s fat dick expertly slammed into his prostate, sending pangs of pleasure to erupt throughout his body. Rob cried out, and Lyle chuckled, the motion of which made his dick piston like a battering ram into Rob’s ass. Each thrust sent another wave of jizz to fill him up.
“Ah, goddamn, boy…” Lyle’s voice was gravelly and tense, resonant in Rob’s ear. Some drops of spit landed on Rob’s earlobe. “Shit…”
“Uh, I- I… uh…” Rob was unable to talk as cum flowed into him. Lyle buckled, grinding his dick in Rob. Warm, creamy cum coated Rob’s insides, a bigger load filling him up than he thought possible from such an old man.
“Shit!” Lyle said once more. He grabbed Rob’s hair, intending to pull off him but keep a grip on his hair until he paid up. Then an aftershock of his orgasm roiled him, and Lyle just found himself plowing Rob again, ramming his limpening dick in and out. That made a big frothy mess as cum dripped out and all over the floor.
Unable to breathe due to how good this felt, Lyle closed his eyes, keeping a tight grip on Rob’s hair. His dick softened in Rob’s ass, while Rob whimpered and gasped for air. The pressure in his body was intense.
“Oh god!” Rob screamed. A final few drops of jizz hit his prostate, and a tsunami of bliss wracked his body. That was when Rob at last reached his own orgasm. His hand furiously whacked at his own meat, and his moan turned into a low-melting groan as his knees went weak. He was supported entirely in Lyle’s powerful arms.
A jet of cum spurted onto the floor in front of Rob. It felt like Lyle had already been cumming for hours, and Rob experienced every moment of that as though it was his own. But now his own orgasm flooded his veins like melted butter, and his sensitive dick throbbed in his grip.
That lasted only until Lyle wrapped one arm around Rob and kissed him on the cheek. He stroked him off silently, right there in front of his grandson, who shielded his eyes and blushed and chuckled and groaned and complained and shrugged all at once. But Lyle got both hands on Rob’s dick to pull him through the last of his orgasm, and he didn’t need to say that this was a secret, that he didn’t want his grandson to know he was giving a reacharound, that the reason he said he didn’t ramrod a man in prison was that at the time it didn’t count if you gave a reacharound, so the reason he did it now was to show his respect and appreciation for the ecstasy Rob had given him.
At last, Lyle pulled out and sighed. He smacked one of Rob’s cheeks. He looked to his grandson. “See, boy? That’s how a real man does it.”
“Shut up, Gramps… That’s how an old man does it.”
Lyle glared at Rob. “You gonna pay up?” His dick glistened and shone with all the fluids dripping off it. Lyle hefted it in one hand and smirked at his grandson, who was back to holding his face in his hands and groaning like a sad mummy. Lyle winked at Rob, who blushed and nodded.
“Of course,” Rob said. He took his phone out and started tapping, as he got the payment details from Bellamy — Lyle didn’t have PayUp, of course, he considered all smartphones to be namby-pamby bullshit. He was right, but Rob still had one, and he paid it to Bellamy to pass on to his grandfather.. “I’ll put finely-aged meat in the memo field,” Rob said as he tapped his way through the signature screen. “Let me know if you’ve got poker buddies or whatever. I can set up a gloryhole for the night. They gotta be your age though.”
“Oh that’s nasty,” Bellamy said. His cheeks burned red as though it was him that was embarrassed about it. He sneered at Rob. “You’re nasty.”
“Shut up, boy, you’re just jealous,” Lyle said. His face was ruddy, beads of sweat collecting on the worry-wrinkles beneath his eyes. He finally wiped his dick off with Bellamy’s shirt, which lay on the floor still. Bellamy didn’t notice his grandfather cleaning santorum off his shaft with his shirt, which made Lyle chuckle and put out a mischievious smile.
Rob smiled. “No, he’s right. It is nasty, but that’s why I like it,” he said. “Thanks for fixing the air conditioner, and good luck with your communist marriage.”
“Socialist! She assured me there’s a difference.”

The Home Invaders

When Avery is woken up by a home invasion in progress, he never thought it would end like this!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

After spending years living with roommates, Avery was overjoyed at finally having a home of his own. He rented a house in the inner-city. It was a run-down, two-bedroom affair, broken windows sealed up with cardboard and all, a stamp-sized front yard that was all brown like a mummified lawn. But it was Avery’s first chance to live totally on his own, and he had never felt more independent than when he first slept in his new bed there.
It wasn’t the nicest neighborhood, but it wasn’t the worst either. Avery didn’t even really care about how nice the neighborhood was — he could take care of himself.
Or so he thought. One night, just a few weeks after moving in, his ability to defend his home was put to the test. Avery woke up before dawn to the sound of a man breaking in.
Maybe two men.
His heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He grabbed the pepper spray he kept in his bedroom and hurried into the hallway.
There were two men there.
Avery stepped into the bathroom so they wouldn’t see him just yet. The closer one was young, handsome, short and lanky, but with bulging muscles beneath his baggy clothes. He had tight cheekbones and a smooth chin, cute but thinks he’s handsome, like an adorable newt. Avery might have seen him before, maybe at the bodega? He caught Avery’s eye because he had those dimples you could do dishes in.
The other one, who was unplugging the television in the living room, was bigger and older, scruffy, cornrowed and lighter-skinned. He was heavyset like a professional wrestler, with a craggy face like a lighthouse keeper. He had a deep scratchy voice too, and his smooth panther-like movements contradicted his apparent roughness, age and heavyset frame. Avery was a great appreciator of male physiques, and both of these men had remarkable ones.
There was no time to consider that though. Avery needed to get to his phone, so he could call the police.
“Yo, Rico, help me pack up this Playstation,” said the older one.
“Yeah, Thumper, in a sec.” Rico — the younger, handsome one — glanced down the hall. He looked worried, in contrast to Thumper’s confident glare. Rico seemed uncertain of whether he had seen movement.
Holding his breath, Avery hid deeper in the bathroom, looking around for anything he could use as a weapon.
“Rico! Nigga, come on!” Thumper said. “Nobody here, okay? Just help me get this shit!”
Rico sighed. He turned around.
Avery wished he had his cell phone with him so he could call the police, but he had stupidly plugged it in using a kitchen outlet — he was all out of outlets in his bedroom. Now it seemed so simple, he could have unplugged something he wasn’t going to use tonight. There were a ton of reasons to keep his phone near the bed.
Wait! A memory lightbulbed up in Avery’s mind. He had put that box of stuff in the bathroom closet, the box with the flashlight and stuff from that one drawer in the apartment — the drawer that was beside the door in his old apartment, which was why he put the pepper spray in that drawer. The pepper spray was in the closet.
While the two home invaders were stacking up Avery’s television and Playstation by the door, Avery silently opened the bathroom closet. He rifled through the box until he found the pepper spray.
Just around the corner, in the hall, Rico opened the hall closet — which was adjacent to the bathroom closet Avery was in, though neither of them knew they were a few feet from each other, practically looking at each other despite the wall in the way. Rico whistled in surprise, which was when Avery realized where he was.
“Thought you said it was just a single man living here,” Rico said.
“Yup.”
“He got a closet full of women’s clothes,” Rico said.
That seemed to throw Thumper for a loop. Avery couldn’t see from his vantage point, but he thought Thumper was looking in the closet too. That meant they were both facing away from the bathroom.
This is your opportunity, he told himself. He crept out of the bathroom closet and quietly pushed the bathroom door open.
“Tall woman too,” Thumper said. “Prolly an ex-wife or some shit. Go on and look in the bedroom-“
“Fuck you, assholes!” Avery screamed and came into the living room, pepper spray in hand. He realized only when Thumper and Rico looked at him that he had never looked closely at this pepper spray. He didn’t know how to use it, or whether there was some kind of safety latch he needed to remove first. Sure enough, when he pressed the trigger, nothing happened. The can of pepper spray was unopened, and Thumper lazily knocked it out of Avery’s hand.
For a moment, all was silent. Thumper and Rico looked at Avery as though they had never seen a white man before. Avery was too scared to move.
Thumper chuckled. “Oh, damn. Someone is here.”
“Don’t hurt me!”
“Tie him up in his room,” Thumper said. He turned around to look in the drawers of the desk in the living room. He picked up an old iPod as though considering stealing that, then decided it wasn’t worth it. He set it back down.
Rico approached Avery with the confident, cocky glare of a thug. Avery, embarrassed at having been outmatched so easily, felt a surge of adrenaline — if he let these home invaders dictate what happened here, this would end up bad for sure.
“Goan, man,” Rico said. “Get to the bedroom.” Despite his confident demeanor, Avery could tell he was wavering. He had never done anything this violent.
“No. Fuck you,” Avery said. “Get outta my house.”
“Just take him, Rico!” Thumper barked.
Rico pushed Avery towards the hallway, but Avery had a few pounds on him. He stood flat-footed and didn’t move an inch. He pushed Rico back, and the smaller man nearly tripped over the couch. Rico looked like he hadn’t expected to have to make an effort. He was used to intimidating scared white men, but Avery’s adrenaline flowed too hard for him to be easy to scare.
Thumper laughed. “What’s wrong wit’choo, boy?”
“He pushed me!” shouted the annoyed Rico, who stomped towards Avery yet again.
“Yeah, he do that!” Thumper said. “We’s robbin’ him. He might push back. That happens, nigga. Shit’s fucked up.”
That momentary burst of success gave Avery a spring in his step. This time when Rico approached him, Avery used the self-defense techniques he learned in a karate class at the Y — he nearly knocked Rico over with a foot sweep, but instead put him in a bear hug. Rico’s lithe muscles squirmed beneath Avery’s touch as Avery kept a hold of him and dragged him to the front door.
He literally tossed Rico out into the front stoop, as Thumper laughed behind him like a baritone jackal. When Avery turned around, Thumper was screaming peals of laughter, clapping his hands on his meaty thighs.
“You got that, man, you got that!”
Avery blushed. He hadn’t meant to impress Thumper. Now that Rico was gone, Avery just needed to get rid of Thumper, or at least make it into the kitchen to call the police.
But then Rico walked right back in behind Avery. He once again tried to push Avery, who easily tossed him out the front door yet again.
This time, he was distracted long enough for Thumper — who still laughed as though he had never seen anything so funny — to grab Avery from behind. He wrapped both muscular arms around Avery and hissed. His basketball-thick arms were like iron bars, and Avery was unable to escape his hold.
“Get off me!”
“This is how you do it, nigga!” Thumper barked at Rico. Thumper’s powerful body pressed against Avery’s back.
Rico muttered as he followed Thumper, who dragged Avery into the bedroom. Rico shut the front door and wiped wet grass off his stained t-shirt. Avery wiggled in Thumper’s might grasp, ensconcing himself in Thumper’s broad chest muscles.
Despite or maybe because of all the fighting, Avery was horny. It came both from general excitement as well as from the strapping muscles of Thumper’s body, undulating behind his back. Avery could even feel a horsey cock beneath Thumper’s jeans, rubbing against the small of Avery’s back.
“Get some rope,” Thumper said as he tossed Avery on the bed on his belly.
Avery felt naked and vulnerable. He wore only a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He tried to get up, but Thumper sat on the bed next to him, resting one heavy arm on Avery’s back.
“Get a rope!”
“I, uh, I ain’t got one.”
“I tol’ you bring a rope!”
“You said he wouldn’t be home! And I ain’t got a motherfuckin’ rope, nigga!”
Thumper sighed. “You stupid fuck. What we s’posed to tie him up with?”
“You said he wouldn’t be home.”
“What I said was bring a rope, nigga!” Thumper said. “You should stay prepared, man. Don’t come into some nigga’s house without rope to tie him up.” He patted Avery on the back of the head. “Sorry ‘bout callin’ you a nigga, whiteboy.”
“That’s okay. Just get out! Lemme go,” Avery said.
“Go find something we can tie him up with,” Thumper said with a sigh. He held Avery’s face in the pillow, not suffocating him, but keeping him from seeing what Rico was doing. After a few seconds, Thumper shouted in frustration. “Not in here, nigga! If there was something in here we could use to tie him up, I’d-a said ‘hand me that, nigga’. I said go find something!”
Rico muttered angrily to himself as he walked out the door the bedroom. He could be heard pawing through the hallway closet.
“Sorry, man, he young. He slow,” Thumper said. Leaving one hand on Avery’s neck and hand, his other rested on Avery’s back. That hand moved slowly lower, then he squeezed Avery’s asscheek. “He ain’t nevuh been locked up. He don’t know.” He leaned in and kissed the back of Avery’s neck. “You got a nice booty.” He let out a choked moan. “Boy, if you was my cellmate… I’d brew up something in yo’ ass and yo’ mouth, e’ry damn day.”
Avery shuddered at the thought. He was so aroused now his dick was already getting hard, pressing into the mattress beneath him.
“You into that, huh?”
“Hell yeah,” Avery said. “You can ram me. Just don’t rob me.”
Thumper laughed. “Those things ain’t mutually exclusive, man,” he said. “And you ain’t in position to be making demands.” He chuckled as he stood up. He unzipped the fly of his jeans and fished out a long dark cock. “There’s two options before you, but they both lead you to the same place.”
His head moved of its own will towards Thumper’s cock. Avery hesitated, inhaling that musty, prison-starved scent — he could tell that the underwear Thumper wore was that plain white kind, prison-issue boxers. He must be a recent releasee, or maybe he just never quite got over his release.
But before Avery could open his mouth to suck it down, Thumper took his head in hand and pulled it into his crotch. The silky sensation of limp cockmeat filled Avery’s mouth, and Avery inhaled deeply of the scent of his wiry pubic bush, which was all-black despite the streaks of gray in his beard and his cornrows. Thumper had an intense and potent flavor. He tasted of blunt ash and grimy city streets. He smelled of prison cells, men in cramped conditions and unwashed ballsweat.
In no time his cock began to firm up within Avery’s mouth. It grew hot and thick, and Avery let his tongue caress the underside of Thumper’s veiny shaft. He slurped up the sweat that clung to his shaft.
“Oh yeah…” Thumper murmured. “I only got outta prison yesterday, man. I needed this.”
Thumper kept all his clothes on. He didn’t even drop his pants, he just let his cock poke out of the fly of his jeans. As Avery licked, Thumper stooped more and more to give Avery better access to his entire dick. Soon enough, Thumper was leaning over the entire bed, humping Avery’s face like a dog.
His dick kept angling out of Avery’s mose and smearing spit over his face. It was at least a foot long and thick as Avery’s wrist, and it throbbed with a desperate, intense horniness. Thumper thrust with all his might even as he missed Avery’s mouth. Whenever he got a good rhythm of throating Avery down for a few seconds, he moaned and groaned and undulated his powerful chest muscles.
The smell of a lit cigarette filled the room. Avery was annoyed — he didn’t allow smoking in his home. He hated cigarettes, but he wasn’t about to complain, even if his mouth weren’t full. Lit cigarette cocked between his lips, Thumper climbed all the way onto the bed.
The position was awkward. No one would have ever chosen to get dome in this position, but Thumper didn’t seem to mind. Maybe he was used to overcrowded prisons. Avery’s body jammed against the wall of his room, laying on his side, while Thumper crawled onto the bed, stooping over so his cock could reach out of his sagging jeans and into Avery’s throat.
“Slurp it good, nigga,” Thumper said. He snuck one callused hand behind Avery’s head, holding it still while he worked his cock in and out. When Avery finally gagged on its thickness invading his throat, Thumper murmured his approval. “There ya go. That’s the sound of a job done right. Move yo’ tongue around mo’.”
Avery did as he was told. He had never tasted a cock this delicious before. Avery could still savor the drops of untainted sweat that clung to his shaft, rather than tasting nothing more than his own spit.
Then the overwhelming saltiness of precum hit Avery’s senses. He moaned around the fat cock in his throat, which made Thumper laugh. He lightly smacked Avery on the cheek, and his callused fingers squeezed his nose shut to help his throat open more.
“You fo’ real, man,” he said. “I like you. You wanna slurp on my balls?”
He didn’t need to ask Avery twice. Avery reached into the hairy dankness of Thumper’s crotch and withdrew a low-hanging sac from the fly of his jeans. He drooled as he pulled off Thumper’s cock and let both hairy balls fall into his mouth.
That enormous brown dick stood straight up from his face. Avery lazily stroked it with one hand, giggling at sight of Thumper’s meat twitching with every touch — Avery kept his hand off-rhythm, light, just barely stroking Thumper’s shaft as he gurgled on those sensitive balls. That was tortuously tantalizing for Thumper, whose hands fluttered as though he was unwilling to touch himself no matter how much his instincts demanded it.
“Whatchoo doin, nigga?!” Rico screamed when he came back into the bedroom. He dropped the soft cloth belt from a bathrobe, which is apparently what he found with which to tie Avery down. Rico sounded like he was about to start crying.
Thumper laughed. “What’s it look like, lor nigga?”
Rico hesitated. He stood there in the doorway. Avery couldn’t see his face because Thumper’s balls overflowed from his mouth, and all that was in front of his eyes was that towering shaft of chocolate brown cock. With every barrel laugh of Thumper’s heavy body, Avery felt the balls on his tongue quiver. He suckled as loudly as he could, and the moist sound of gargling balls filled the room.
Rico audibly gagged. He came closer, approaching gingerly, as though it was a bomb he needed to find a way to defuse.
“You ramrodding’ that man?” Rico asked.
Thumper laughed again, and his balls twitched in Avery’s mouth. “Nah. He slurpin’ on my balls, nigga. Does it look like my dick is in his ass?”
“Ewwww…! He’s slurpin’ on ya balls, nigga!”
“I know, I just said that-
“Why’s he slurpin’ on ya balls? Ain’t that gross?”
“He likes it.”
There was a long silence. Avery could hear Rico come even closer, and kneel as he looked right at the balls disappearing down Avery’s throat.
“He likes the taste of balls?” He peered closer but stepped away as though worried about being splashed. He wrinkled his nose.
Thumper grabbed Rico’s head. Rico squealed and tried to pull away, but Thumper held him close. He dragged his head right to Avery’s ball-slurping face. For a moment it looked like Thumper was going to make Rico swallow his cock while Avery kept working on his balls.
But he didn’t let Rico go. He just held his face there for a long time, so close the spit from Avery’s ball-slurping splattered on Rico’s nose. Rico gagged and bucked, and Thumper let him go.
This time, Thumper and Avery both laughed together, though the sound of Avery’s laughter was a moistly muffled roar because his mouth was full. Rico wiped his face off and roared.
“Ewww! Ew, nigga! I tasted that!”
“Don’t nevuh get locked up, nigga,” Thumper said. He pulled his moist scrotum out of Avery’s mouth, planted it right on Avery’s nostrils and laughed at Rico’s shocked reaction. Avery snaked his tongue out to tease the underside of Thumper’s ballsac.
“I won’t!”
“You gunna embarrass me if you do.” Thumper pointed the tip of his dick into Avery’s mouth, but just jabbed it in once before getting up. He kneeled on the bed, straddling Avery’s body. He grabbed Rico’s dick and put it on his dick, but Rico let go without acknowledging that. Thumper said, “You know how things go in there, nigga.”
“Yeah!” Rico sounded like he was about to cry. “I know how lockup works, brah. If I was in there, I might lay some pipe in a nigga. But I ain’t. I-“
“You don’t want that to be yo’ first time, Rico,” Thumper said. His fingers gripped Avery’s face, rubbing his cheeks and stretching his mouth open. He leaned over until he was so close he nearly kissed Avery right on the lips. Rico watched with baited breath, but then all Thumper did was purse his lips and spit. A wad of saliva landed right in Avery’s mouth, and Thumper forced his lips shut. Thumper licked Avery’s spasming face from his chin to his forehead. “You mine, bitch.” He chuckled to himself. “It ain’t the same if you want it. I kinda miss makin’ prison bitches squirm,” he said, ruefully. “You wanna mouth off this nigga too?”
“God yes!” Avery shouted.
Rico didn’t respond and maybe didn’t understand what Thumper said. He wavered, and looked away when Thumper smiled at him. Without taking his body off the bed, Thumper wrapped one arm around Rico’s shoulder. Rico shuddered.
“C’mon, nigga. You should do this. You ain’t gotta tell no one,” Thumper said. “You gonna look like an idiot if yo’ first time wit’ a man happens behind bars. Don’t young niggas do shit on the downlow these days?”
“No!”
Thumper rolled his eyes. “You don’t, you mean. I know some young niggas do.”
“I got females, Thumper!” Rico said, his voice plaintive and desperate. He closed his eyes while Thumper guided him close to the bed. Rico began undoing his belt, but Thumper stopped him.
“Nah. Real thugs don’t take they clothes off, not to ram it up some whiteboy,” Thumper said. “You might have to run wit’ a quickness.”
Rico’s breathing was slow and swift. He was very nervous, and his hands trembled as he unzipped his fly. He took a deep breath and let his cock flop out. It was plenty long but not as remarkable as Thumper’s, and it wasn’t as thick. Avery still looked at it hungrily.
“Well? Come on, put it in his mouth,” Thumper said. He chuckled. “Gonna break you in tonight, Rico, shit…”
Rico winced. He closed his eyes again, and bit his lip. His dick waggled in front of Avery’s face. Thumper held it in one hand and wagged it like a dog’s tail. Rico sucked in his breath and looked away.
“Rico, you fucking pussy, just do it, if you gonna do it. If you scairt of this whiteboy and wanna run out the door, do that,” Thumper said. “Is you a thug or ain’t you? Thugs ain’t goddamn squeamish ‘bout who swallow they nut. Head is head.”
Rico nodded. He didn’t seem any more relaxed, and with his eyes still closed, he could do little more than flop his cock in the general direction of Avery’s mouth. Avery was eager to taste it. He lifted his head the best he could with Thumper still pinning him down. He got the tip of Rico’s dick in his mouth, but as soon as he touched it with his tongue, Rico giggled like a teenager and backed away.
“Rico!” Thumper screamed. “Don’t be a goddamn pussy. You almost twenty years old, actin’ like a fuckin’ pansy.”
With a startle, Rico stepped forward again. He opened his eyes just long enough to see that Thumper’s cock was still rock-hard, resting against Avery’s face. Thumper roared in frustration and grabbed Rico’s cock with one hand. He aimed it for Avery’s mouth.
“Shit, Thumper! You touchin’ my dick again!” Rico’s eyes opened wide, looking at his shaft in Thumper’s hand. He stood on his toes and sucked in his breath, but he didn’t back away from Thumper.
“Don’t be squeamish,” Thumper said with a snarl.
Avery was shocked that Thumper would touch another man’s dick. It looked like Rico was even more surprised. He looked at it like a bad car accident as Thumper led his dick to Avery’s mouth. Rico stepped forward stiffly, wishing he hadn’t agreed to rob houses with Thumper — he had known something like this would happen — not this exactly, but something unpleasant, Thumper was like that — Rico considered leaving even now. He could leave. Thumper would tease him about it and probably tell everyone Rico left because he couldn’t get hard.
Rico didn’t want to seem squeamish, and a part of him did want a consequence-free orgasm. So he didn’t leave. He just tried to pretend it wasn’t Thumper’s middle-aged, callused fingers pawing over his meat, stroking the shaft and forcing it like a dead snake into Avery’s waiting mouth.
This time Avery immediately licked the tip, which perked up right away. Rico frowned and sucked in his breath, still watching as Thumper stroked him and Avery slurped on him.
Again, Thumper seemed uncaring of how much he touched Rico’s cock, as he pointed his own cock towards Avery’s mouth as well. Avery focused on getting Rico hard while Thumper’s dick poked at his lips. Rico’s lithe frame was so tense he was like a fully clothed statue, his knees trembling as he got hard in Avery’s mouth. Avery got one hand on both dicks and slurped on them both at the same time. Thumper’s was still rock-hard, Rico’s stayed soft as pudding.
“See, nigga? It ain’t bad. You gangbang bitches?”
“Yeah!” Rico scrunched his eyes half-shut, and he leaned back like he wanted to be as far from his dick as possible. He might have been holding his breath, Avery couldn’t tell.
“You ever joust in a bitch’s mouth?”
Rico mumbled over some words that Avery couldn’t quite catch. He sucked in his breath and looked away, then back at his dick touching Thumper’s dick and being battered by Avery’s tongue, then looked away again, then back. With a jolly grin, Thumper wrapped one arm around Rico and brought his head in. He kissed Rico on the forehead and laughed again as Rico pulled away from him.
“Lay off me, nigga! Why we gotta joust and shit?” Rico said.
“I just like fuckin’ wit’ you, nigga,” Thumper said. “But we ain’t gotta joust if you want. I’ll do him up the ass.” Then he backed away. He rolled Avery over onto his back, so Rico had to mount his body just like Thumper had been, in order to aim his dick into Avery’s mouth. Meanwhile, Thumper, in one smooth motion, lifted up Avery’s legs and pulled his sweatpants down.
“Oh shit, you isgonna ram that man!”
“Hell yeah, I ain’t some squeamish nigga who just wanna get his dick wet,” Thumper said. “I been locked up, nigga. I ain’t fuck for a long time.”
“Brah, I ain’t wanna hear that shit. That’s disgustin’-“
“Nigga! Shut yo’ goddamn mouth. If you keep complainin’, I’ll have you stick ‘im too,” he said.
Rico wasn’t really paying attention to his dick. He was much smaller than Thumper, so in order to mount Avery’s chest, he had to stretch his hips and thighs apart. It was distinctly uncomfortably for him, especially in those loose-fitting jeans he still wore. He kept his hips perfectly still as Avery slurped on his smooth brown shaft through the fly. Rico didn’t notice his dick was getting hard in Avery’s mouth.
“Keep yo’ head lookin’ that way if you don’t wanna see it,” Thumper said gruffly as he wedged the tip of his dick between Avery’s cheeks. He shoved a small pillow under there to lift up Avery’s ass, then rammed his dick in.
It was just the first few inches at first, but the pain was intense. Avery moaned around the cock in his throat, as pleasure followed the pain in pulsating throughout his body. That hot cock pushed deeper and deeper inside.
“Brah, can’t you give a warning? He almost bit down on my dick-“
“You ain’t figger out what was about to happen?” Thumper asked. He lifted his shirt up so it wouldn’t get in the way, then lifted it over his head, without taking it off. His high yellow chest was bare and gleaming with sweat. Thumper ground his dick in even deeper and chuckled at Avery’s squirming. “This honky know how to take it. How’s that dome, nigga?”
Rico didn’t answer. He closed his eyes again. His dick was hard, but it seemed that he was still too nervous and distracted to notice. His lithe body bucked instinctively.
“You best get tougher, nigga, or less handsome,” Thumper said. “Prison go’n eat you alive.”
“I ain’t goan to prison! And can you not talk? Yo’ voice is right in my ear. I can’t nut wit’ yo’ voice all up in my shit,” Rico said.
Thumper was leaning forward, so his breath condensed on Rico’s neck. “When you locked up, there ain’t always bitches around. Most of the time, you in a cell wit’ some dudes. Even if you got a bitch, he prolly ain’t around when you want him.”
“I ain’t tryin’-a get locked up, brah.”
“No one tries to get locked up, sometimes it just happens,” Thumper said. “And you gotta feel good however you can.”
Rico shuddered as Thumper’s hands caressed his back. Thumper lifted up his shirt to reveal a broad, smooth brown back. His fingers danced up and down Rico’s spine.
Then his hands roamed lower and lower, until they went past the waist of Rico’s jeans. He grabbed Rico’s plump asscheeks.
“You ever took it up the ass before?”
“No!”
“You got a hell of an ass, nigga,” Thumper said gruffly. He kissed Rico’s bare shoulder then rammed one finger up his asshole.
Rico was so nervous that his erection flagged inside Avery’s mouth. Avery didn’t mind, as this was arousing enough that he didn’t want it to end. Anything that made it go on longer was fine by him.
“How’s that feel, nigga?”
Rico closed his eyes, not willing to answer. He leaned forward and grimaced in pain as his hips began instinctually flexing forward and back, daggering his dick deep into Avery’s throat as he went forward.
Rico couldn’t see what Thumper was doing, so he had no idea that Thumper caressed Avery’s flat stomach. Then he grabbed Avery’s cock and gave it a stroke. He made a quiet shushing sound, which Avery gathered was aimed at him — Thumper didn’t want Rico to know he was giving a reacharound (of sorts — it wasn’t a real reacharound, since Avery was on his back; it was a reach-front).
With the taste of one cock in his mouth and another stimulating his prostate, Avery had no ability to delay his orgasm. He was about to bust a nut without anyone even touching his cock, and now that Thumper was stroking it, he couldn’t resist. Avery cried out but the sound was muffled by Rico’s cock.
Cum spurted from his cock, coating Thumper’s fingers. Thumper didn’t slow down at all. He kept stroking, and moaned as Avery’s body contorted around the cock in his ass.
Rico was so focused on the pleasure coming from both ends that he didn’t notice Avery orgasm. He breathed a sigh of relief as Thumper removed one finger from his ass then gasped when Thumper replaced it with one from the other hand, the hand he had just stroked Avery off with. Rico had no idea that the pinkie finger in his ass was coated in Avery’s cum.
“Ah, gawd, here it comes, brah,” Rico said, his voice soft and weak now that he was letting Thumper finger him. His voice even broke as the first few drops of cum coated Avery’s tongue.
“Nah, niggas paint they bitches’ face,” Thumper said. He grabbed Rico’s cock as it shot its load, pulled it out of Avery’s mouth and aimed it to spray all over his face. Rico’s entire tight body spasmed at Thumper’s touch, and his cock pulsated beneath Thumper’s fingers, his asshole squeezing the finger of Thumper’s other hand..
As the orgasm wrapped around Rico’s muscles, he leaned forward, gasping. Rico yelped and squirmed but didn’t try to crawl away, he just submitted to the humiliation of enjoying his cum spray into Avery’s mouth.
Thumper grunted. He stayed still for just a moment. He kissed Rico’s neck, making Rico shudder at the touch of Thumper’s lips. Avery stroked Rico’s sensitive cockshaft as he felt Thumper’s cumload spray within him.
It was hot and creamy, and Avery and Thumper moaned together, as though harmonizing with each other. Thumper’s guttural, tremulous tone filled the room, and Rico shuddered in disgust at the sound. Avery, feeling bold, pushed his hands up underneath Rico’s shirt. He gripped his pecs — just as he had suspected, Rico was small, but powerfully-muscled. Each pectoral muscle was like an overpumped basketball, tense with post-orgasmic glow and awkward tension, his older thug friend still massaging his back and fingering his ass.
Then he was done. Thumper didn’t move. He kept his limp cock right in Avery’s ass, while both cum-covered hands caressed Rico’s body. It was obvious he was playing a prank on Rico, seeing how much touching he would accept before complaining. Rico held his breath and closed his eyes, trying to pretend there weren’t men feeling him up from both sides.
“Okay, that’s enough, you two,” Rico finally said. He nearly fell off the bed in his haste to get away, and he sighed when Thumper leggo his ass. He shuddered as he pulled his shirt back down and tucked his cock away in his pants. “I know you just messin’ wit’ me.”
Thumper dismounted Avery’s ass, the intense pressure of being penetrated finally leaving Avery’s mind. Thumper stood next to the bed, then much to Avery’s surprise, he dropped his pants all the way to his ankles. A thick, hairy pair of asscheeks waited right above Avery’s face.
Thumper pulled those cheeks apart to reveal a twinkling brown asshole. He laughed at Rico’s shudder of disgust, and Thumper planted his ass right on Avery’s face.
“Give it a kiss, man,” Thumper said.
Avery did as he was told. Thumper waited for the kiss on his ass, then shuddered and stood up. He pulled his pants back up.
“Okay, we ain’t takin’ this man’s shit,” Thumper said.
“What?! After all that, nigga?”
Thumper nodded. “We already rammed him. That’s enough. Ain’t really got shit anyway.”
“Come back anytime,” Avery said. He blushed. He should follow them out to the living room, to make sure they didn’t actually take anything. But he was too weak from the dick he just took to stand or walk, so he just watched them both march out the door.
From the living room, he heard Rico scoff. “We ain’t comin’ back-“
“Hell yeah we is,” Thumper said. “You find me a female tomorrow night, Rico. If you can’t get one to take it in the ass, I’ll either ram you or this honky. Your choice.”
“Man, Thumper… I mean, him, obviously-“
“Yo’ choice. I like touchin’ yo’ ass while I ram. Might keep you wit’ me e’ry time from now on,” Thumper said. He paused and yelled back, “Later, whiteboy. Get some porno mags we can look at next time.” The door slammed shut, then Thumper opened it. “Black chicks!”
“Okay,” Avery said, his voice too weak for anyone outside the bedroom to hear. He heard Thumper chuckling as he slammed the front door again, and Avery breathed a sigh of relief.
He was exhilarated. He settled down in his sheets, unwilling to move because he could still smell that masculine scent. He didn’t want it to ever go away.
There was a tap on his window. It was Rico’s handsome cornrowed face, frowning at him. “Hey, man? Thanks for that. I’ll come back alone sometime. I don’t wanna mess around with that ol’ nigga. But I want another nut from you. Don’t tell no one, okay?”
“Okay,” Avery said breathlessly.
Rico paused and whisper-yelled away from the window. “Alright, Thumper, damn! I’m comin’! I just dropped my lighter.” Then he muttered into the window before scurrying away. “Keep yo’ door unlocked and yo’ lips unchapped, man. I be back.”

The Baller

Avery is at a grimy basketball court in downtown Baltimore when he has a chance to swing on some alpha male ebony meat. He knows he’s gotta take his shot while he has a chance, and he lands the handsome prettyboy Rakhim! Can Avery please his newest alpha? Can Rakhim perform under pressure?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“Pass it up, nigga!”
“You dribble like a retard, man, send it over here. You know you won’t know what to do wit’ it.”
Avery sat on the ground near the basketball hoop. He had a basketball with him. He didn’t like his basketball because it was clean. He had just bought it at All-Mart a few minutes ago. It hadn’t occurred him to use it first. It was very obviously brand-new, and it made him stand out as an outsider here.
“Take that shot, Rakhim! Take the shot! Take-“
“Ah, nigga!”
Rakhim was one of the guys playing basketball. He was younger than the others — he had just turned eighteen a few days ago. The rest of the men playing were at least in their late twenties, some well into their forties.
Avery tried not to feel too self-conscious. He was in a public court in one of the worst ghettos of inner-city Baltimore. He stood out because he was the only white person here — what was even weirder was that he was, by far, the lightest-skinned person here. There wasn’t even a single light-skinned black person anywhere at the court. He also stood out because he was watching but not from the sidelines. He was there at the front of the court, behind the basket, so he was almost knocked over a few times as they played.
“Yo, whiteman, bounce it up.”
A ball landed near Avery. His heart skipped a beat as he picked it up and bounced it back to Rakhim. He was young and broad-shouldered, with tight, taut muscles that were dappled in sweat. He was on the “skins” team, so he was shirtless — Avery had watched him deliberately get himself on the skins team, presumably because he wanted to show off in front of the girls who chatted on the sidelines. None of the girls appeared to be paying much attention, but Rakhim smiled at them and made sure they got lots of views of his six-pack abs and his deep dimples.
As confident as Rakhim was in front of the girls, he showed less confidence in front of the old heads he played with. Rakhim was smaller than any of them, and he was easily the most handsome, so they all treated him like a prettyboy. He wasn’t scarred or heavily tattooed, and he had a smooth, unblemished face.
“Watch this dunk, nigga!” Rakhim shouted. He was much too short to be dunking, wasn’t he? Avery wasn’t a basketball expert, but he didn’t think someone like Rakhim had any chance of making it.
Sure enough, Rakhim slammed the ball onto the rim but didn’t make it in the basket. He landed on the ground and groaned as the other players all burst into whoops and hollers. The girls stopped chatting and watched, giggling while Rakhim stood, stony-faced, grimaces flashing over his eyes. He tried to smile good-naturedly.
“You must be this tall to dunk-!”
“That is why you got fired from Darling Donuts, nigga!”
“Yo, Rakhim, you gonna dunk ‘bout two minutes after that whiteman over there.”
They all laughed. Avery blushed, but he didn’t respond. He grabbed the basketball he had brought with him, lifted it over his head and licked the underside of it. He made sure it looked like he was licking a testicle.
All of the basketball players were quiet for a moment. The girls watching from the sidelines laughed — but they were confused, not recognizing the ball-slurping for what it was. Then the basketball players chuckled dryly and resumed the game. There was some faint whispering and casual glances in Avery’s direction, but no one spoke to him.
That was fine with Avery. He knew how to do this.
It was one of the middle-aged guys that came to talk to Avery. He was probably the oldest one here, with a lanky body covered with gray-tinged chest hair. He had a gravelly voice like he gargled with nails, so low and spine-tingling that Avery struggled to understand his words.
“Yo, wuzzup? Whatchoo want, whiteman?”
Avery giggled as girlishly as he could manage. “I just wanted to jerk some dick. Do you know anyone with a dick?”
He glowered. He spat on the ground. “You payin’?”
“I’ll pay you and him five hundred dollars if I get to jerk off Rakhim over there,” he said.
The man chuckled. “So you go’n pay me? For his dick? He my nephew, you know. He twenty-two, but he my nephew.”
“I’ll pay him too.” Avery smiled. “Or if you’d rather, I’ll pay a thousand dollars to the whole lot of you. All ten of you. Hundred bucks each.”
He thought for a moment. “Nah. You pay me. The whole amount, thousand dollars. Don’t tell Rakhim you payin’.” He paused, thought for a moment and rolled his eyes. “Nevuhmind, no. His daddy’s my brothah. You pay him the whole thousand dollars.” He sighed again like he really didn’t want to do that. “His daddy’s doin’ time. I gotta do what’s right… Fine, you pay him a thousand dollars. But don’t tell him till it’s done. I go’n mess wit’ him.”
The game seemed to have paused. The middle-aged man — Reg— jogged back off to the other older players. They spoke in hushed tones. It sounded like they had sent Reg to see what Avery wanted. They all laughed, then hushed each other.
Rakhim shot baskets lazily. He glanced back at the others, and he made eye contact with Avery then looked away.
“Alright, you shitheads got the ball,” Reg said, and the huddle at the far end of the court broke up.
The game resumed. Avery watched, slowly licking the basketball in front of his face. He heard some of the girls mutter catty insults about him, but Avery didn’t mind. He serviced a lot of alpha men, which tended to piss off females. He knew that. It was normal. He could handle the bitches.
“You ain’t nevuh got a dunk in, Short Stuff,” Reg said to Rakhim. Rakhim sucked on his teeth and scowled like he hated that nickname.
“Rakhim’s the only one here who ain’t nevuh one time dunk.”
“He can’t do it, nigga, no one that short can dunk. He shorter than Spud Webb.”
“I ain’t!” Rakhim yelled. “Nah! I’m five nine, nigga! I’m taller than Spud Webb! All y’all fuckers shut yo’ mouths! Spudd Webb was five seven. I can dunk any time I want, nigga.”
They laughed. Even some of the girls watching laughed, and Avery chuckled. Rakhim grabbed the ball from one of the other players. “I got two inches on Spud Webb!” Rakhim shouted, even though he knew it made him look even more defensive — he just couldn’t help himself. Rakhim grabbed his cock, its massive shaft momentarily outlined by his sweaty basketball shorts. Rakhim laughed cockily. “I got more than two inches on ‘im, man, I swear to God!” He pumped his biceps.
“How you know how big Spud Webb’s dick is?”
“Yo, are you sayin’ you jerked off Spud Webb?”
Rakhim shouted, “Y’all can suck the sweat off my balls! Fuck you! I can dunk! I’ll take you all on, motherfuckers!” He paced in a circle as though he was going to challenge someone to a fight but couldn’t decide who. His fuming just made the others laugh more.
The men laughed and clutched each other’s half-naked bodies as they watched. Five of them wore sleeveless shirts, and four (plus Rakhim) were shirtless, but they all pawed at each other’s sweaty muscles while Rakhim shouted. They laughed as though it was the funniest thing they had ever seen.
“Nah, nah,” Reg’s deep voice cut through Rakhim’s yelling, and he had such gravity and authority in his tone that everyone fell silent immediately. Even Avery stopped laughing. Reg’s chest rumbled. “Nah. Nah, nigga. None of us gonna slurp the sweat off ya balls.”
“Damn right.”
“You still the little’un, Rakhim. And you only just turned eighteen.”
“I is twenty-two, nigga, fuck you. I can dunk. You ain’t gotta show me disrespec’,” Rakhim said. He sucked on his lip.
Reg chuckled and placed one hand on his shoulder. “Look, young pup, you wanna show us what you got? Go for it. Let’s make a bet. You get three dunks, nigga. If you make one of ‘em, you win, and Slim Jay here gonna set you up wit’ one of his fine-ass hos.”
Slim Jay was one of the other players, on the Shirts team. He wasn’t dressed like a pimp now, but he was clean and had brand-new sneakers and about fifteen trashy-looking women cheering him on. Slim Jay was the only one with his own cheering section. Slim Jay pointed towards the girls cheering him. “You can pick which one you want, man.”
“Sharlene. I want Sharlene.”
There was a moment of silence, and the men all laughed. Rakhim’s face was tight and pinched, and he bit his lip.
“You in love wit’ a whore, nigga?”
“You gonna eat that bitch’s cummy, flappy pussy?”
“No! She hot! She got ass all over, nigga, and I heard she suck dick good. That’s all! I don’t love her, no way,” Rakhim said. He sighed because none of the men could hear him over their own taunting. He crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Anyway, whatever, fuck you, Slim Jay. I could get her anytime I want. I could get a freebie. Girls love my meat, nigga. She be beggin’ for it if-“
“Nah.” Slim Jay said. He got up real close, and laughter stopped. His face was less than an inch from Rakhim’s. Since he was taller than Rakhim, he had to stoop over so his eyes lined up. “Nah, Rakhim. You ain’t gonna do that. She my girl. I love her. She know that. Ain’t nothin’ you do gonna change that. She don’t do freebies. She love me too much to betray me like that.”
After a long pause, Slim Jay kissed Rakhim on the lips. It was a momentary, dry, chaste kiss that ended as soon as Rakhim pushed him away. Despite it lasting only a half a second, the kiss made Rakhim howl and wipe his lips off as though he had just kissed battery acid. The other men laughed and clutched each other for support once more.
“Ya got a new boyfriend, Rakhim? You gonna turn tricks for Slim Jay?!”
Slim Jay smiled as they all hooted at Rakhim, who switched his hostile glares from Slim Jay, to the others, to the girls who shouted for more from the sidelines. But Slim Jay was already jogging away, to Avery. He wangled his dick in his jeans and smiled at Avery. “Yo, man. Gimme ten bucks for kissin’ Rakhim. I know you got off on that.”
“Uh…” Avery wasn’t expecting that. He pulled out a twenty dollar bill from his pocket, as he had no ten. “I, uh-“
Slim Jay took the twenty. “Good. The other ten bucks is you payin’ me to watch my ass as I walk away.” He laughed and shook his plump cheeks as he went back to the cluster of older men. Rakhim dribbled by himself in front of the basket, eyeing Avery suspiciously. It looked like Rakhim wanted to practice dunking but couldn’t do so right now without looking weak.
“You wanna do this, nigga?” Reg said to Rakhim. “If you can make just one dunk, you get to fuck wit’ Sharlene. If you can’t make a dunk, you gotta stop talkin’ trash ‘bout yo’ skills… and you gotta get whiteman over there to slurp the sweat off yo’ balls. And you gotta ram him.” Reg crossed his arms over his chest. The other men did the same, presenting a united front.
Rakhim scoffed. “What? Fine, whatever.” Then, like the details hadn’t really sunk in just yet, he said, “Wait, what? What’d you say? I gotta…”
“You scared?”
“Yo’ daddy’s is a booty bandit behind bars, you know that, right?”
“Shut up! My pops ain’t a booty snatcher, nah! Fuck you, man.” Reggie scowled and stamped his feet.
Reg rolled his eyes. “So whatchoo think? Can you do it? Can you dunk wit’ yo’ tiny ass?”
“Nigguh! Ah…” Rakhim paced again. He was furious that his father’s affairs were being aired in public. He screamed at Reg, “I know you lyin’! My pops ain’t no bum-tickler!” That made Reg laugh some more, and Rakhim took a deep breath through slitted teeth. “You don’t know jack-shit, old nigga. You don’t know nothin’. My pops don’t act like that. He ain’t fuckin’ around on that ramrod trip. Nope. No way.”
Reg covered his face as he tried to look serious. “Sure, nigga. Right. I know he introduced you. Ramon, right? His name was Ramon? You should respect him, he’s yo’ stepmama.”
“No he ain’t!”
“Alright, Rakhim, you wanna do it? Huh? You takin’ the bet? Quit makin’ a fuckin’ scene and do it. Or don’t, if you don’t think you can dunk…”
Rakhim flared his nostrils and nodded. “Hell yeah, ‘course I can do it. I can dunk, nigga. I can get all three, I bet. I can dunk, no problem. Three dunks in a row.”
“Let’s see it then…” Reg said with a wry grin. He and the other men lined up like they were watching a free throw. They clapped and hooted. The girls watching from the sidelines did the same thing.
Rakhim went back a few yards so he could run up to the basket. He dribbled a couple times. He shook his short braids out of his eyes and ran his fingers over his scalp. His tight pectoral muscles flexed and rippled.
Then he ran for it. He dribbled down the court, between the rows of clapping men and leapt at the hoop. Since Avery was there by the basket, he got a good look at Rakhim’s cock pressed against the fabric of his shorts.
And he missed. Rakhim whiffed completely. He barely touched the basket at all and didn’t even get the ball near the rim.
Laughter exploded from the other men. Rakhim roared and screamed profanities. His eyes bugged out. Some of the girls called out supportive words, which only seemed to make Rakhim angrier.
He raced back to try again before anyone could even tell him to hurry up. He ran faster, not even really dribbling anymore — he dribbled a bit, but if this was a real game, he’d have been called out for traveling.
He got closer, but this time he merely touched the rim with the ball. There was a metallic clang, but no basket.
Again, the audience all erupted in clapping. Avery joined in, shouting encouragement even though he wanted Rakhim to lose more than anything. Catcalls and hoots came from the other men, while the girls giggled among themselves.
Rakhim paused for a long time before his third try. He hushed the crowd, which made the other players laugh harder before Reg told them all to be quiet.
“Nah, let him concentrate, man. We gotta give him a chance. Let him try,” Reg said until they all fell silent. Slim Jay even made his hos shut up.
Rakhim took a deep breath and ran forward for his last try. It was, once again, a miss. He got it on the rim and it almost went in but bounced right off.
No dunk.
Rakhim lowered his head and closed his eyes. He frowned and tightened his hands into fists as the other players alternated between teasing and sarcastic words of support.
“You suck, nigga!”
“Short Stuff! Short Stuff!”
“You tryin’, nigga, you get a medal for tryin’. You got spunk, man. You got gumption.”
“Gumption! Short Stuff full of gumption! And spunk!”
“Spud Webb’s spunk…”
“Fuck you! Fuck you!” Rakhim screamed. He threw the basketball away as hard as he could. It sailed over the fence and bounced into the road outside the court. A few of the girls booed.
“Ah, don’t be a shit, Rakhim,” Reg said. “Jesus Christ, you such a bitch sometimes.”
“Say that to my face, Uncle Reg!”
“I just did say it to yo’ face, motherfucker! Open yo’ ears!” Reg laughed and mimed plucking something from Rakhim’s ear. Rakhim bristled and rubbed his ear as though he thought there was something in there. Reg clasped Rakhim on the shoulder and squeezed. “Chill the fuck out, nigga.”
“We just givin’ ya shit, man. You ain’t gotta throw the ball away. That’s a punk move.”
“If we was in lockup, nigga, I’d stab yo’ ass for that. I’d stab ya in the ass, and then, once I blew my nut inside ya, I’d stab you wit’ a shiv.”
They all laughed at Rakhim’s heavy breathing. Rakhim’s eyes were narrowed to slits. He looked so furious he might explode.
“Yo, you gonna do what you promised?” Reg asked. “Huh? You gonna back out like a loser?”
“Nah. Nah. No.” Rakhim bristled. His anger broke, and he glanced back at Avery. He took a deep breath, rolled his eyes and forced a smile on his face. “Whatever. Fine. Let him suck the sweat off my balls. Fuckin’ bitch. I ain’t, you know… I ain’t some squeamish nigga, you know. I don’t fuck around on the downlow, but I could. I could. I could. I just got females, y’know. I ain’t a bitch who can’t get no pussy. I ram a male, sure, I ram a male, you know… I would ram a male, if I needed to. Sure. No problem, nigga. If we was in prison, I’d-a done took whiteman back there to be my bitch. He’d already be doin’ my laundry, you know, hand-washin’ my drawers. I be eatin’ that bitch’s fruit cup from day one.”
“Is ‘fruit cup’ how young’uns say ‘asshole’ now?”
“I do it, no problem.” Rakhim shrugged and sucked on his teeth. Then he shrugged again, more aggressively. “Sure. Where? I ain’t invitin’ no man into my mama’s house.”
“Right here, nigga. We do it how yo’ daddy make love to his boyfriend, wit’ all his boys blocking the view from the screws,” Reg said. “Get in a circle, niggas.”
Before Avery even realized it was going to happen right here — there was a public bathroom in the courts, so that’s where Avery assumed they were going — the nine players had come to him and formed a circle. Avery leaned against the pole supporting the basketball hoop. He had his own basketball in hand, but he dropped it to the ground and held it in place with one foot.
With nine very large men in a tight circle, flesh-on-flesh, there was no way to see in from outside. Even if you got up real close and tried to look through their legs, all you’d see was low-hanging basketball shorts. You’d have to get all the way down on your belly to see anything, and even then you’d only be able to tell that Avery was on his knees.
Rakhim stood in the center of the circle. His eyes closed, hands on his waist, his pert chest muscles rose and fell as he breathed heavily. He gulped. He tried to put on a tough-nigga face. “Alright, man, get to it. I got some sweaty-ass balls right now-“
Someone pulled down Rakhim’s shorts and his drawers, laughing when it made Rakhim bristle. He had a nice thick cock dangling between his legs, and heavy balls with sweat dripping off his kinky black hairs.
Avery wanted to get started right away before Rakhim decided to drop out. He dove his head between his legs and let both balls plop into his mouth. He gurgled moistly, making as much noise as he could because it made Rakhim bite his lip with embarrassment while the others clapped and cheered.
Rakhim shuddered. He had never had his balls licked before, not really — he’d had girls lick his sac a bit, but they were never willing to suck on his balls. He was ticklish, which he thought would make him look weak so he tried to avoid reacting. But the more he resisted, the more Avery teased his taint with his tongue, making Rakhim giggle like a schoolboy.
“Quit playin’, quit playin’…” Rakhim muttered.
Avery suckled all the sweaty balljuice off his body. He even got way down deep between Rakhim’s legs and slurped like he was trying to suck his taint right off. Rakhim was ungodly funky right now, with fresh sweat dripping in rivers down Avery’s throat — Rakhim was sweaty because he was playing basketball on a humid summer afternoon and because he was nervous about showing off his cock in front of a bunch of old heads.
But he had nothing to be ashamed of. Not only was his cock plenty big, but it got hard right away — almost too quickly, Rakhim thought, hoping no one noticed that he got an erection easily, as though he was with a girl.
“Throat him down, Rakhim!”
His plump cocktip pushed into Avery’s throat. Avery deep-throated him right away, in one smooth motion, prompting the other men to clap again. Rakhim shuddered and closed his eyes. He leaned back against the pole holding up the basketball hoop.
“Course, I’ll throat him down, man,” Rakhim said. His voice sounded a lot less confident than his words suggested, which made the other men chuckle. Rakhim snorted. He took a deep breath and grabbed Avery by the head.
And then he let go and laughed. His laughter was tremulous and anxious.
Rakhim had trouble focusing. He tried again, touching Avery’s scalp, but when he felt Avery’s straight, short, man’s haircut, he laughed nervously again. He pulled his fingers back.
“You scared, Rakhim?” One of the older men poked Rakhim in his bare ass with one finger, making Rakhim buck and smack his hand away.
“Nah, man, this, uh… This man’s just nasty, that’s all,” Rakhim said. “Whatever. I can ram his throat. I ram hard, you know it. I can make him gag.” He closed his eyes and tried again. He grabbed Avery by the scalp, so tightly it hurt. But Avery didn’t mind, he just swallowed Rakhim down to the root, and he didn’t gag even when his throat cried out for it — Avery had been doing this long enough he could usually suppress his gag reflex. Avery’s hands reached up to tease Rakhim’s nipples, which made his pecs ripple.
“He ain’t gaggin’, Rakhim. Maybe yo’ dick ain’t big enough.”
“You got another, bigger dick somewhere? Whip it out, nigga.”
“He… He prolly slurp too many dicks to gag. Ain’t that right, man?” Rakhim asked. He pulled out and lightly slapped Avery on the cheek. “Huh? Is that why you don’t gag?”
“Yes,” Avery said, the first thing he had said to Rakhim all day.
“I bet my dick tastes like pussyjuice, don’t it? I was fuckin’ a female earlier. I was dick-deep in her, man.” He beamed proudly, and glanced behind himself to see if the others were impressed. They were not.
“I don’t taste pussyjuice, sorry,” Avery said. “Your dick tastes really good though-“
“You don’t know what real pussy tastes like, whiteman,” Rakhim said. He rubbed his hard cock over Avery’s face, smearing precum over him. “That’s all. I was fuckin’ a female, I swear. Right before I came here. I busted all up in her.”
“You ain’t fuck her in the ass?”
“Nah. Nah. Not her,” Rakhim said. “Not this morning. I do fuck bitches in the ass, man. No problem.”
Avery smiled. “Are you ready to ram me in the ass?”
“Hell yeah he is, boy! He gonna get up in there!”
“Destroy him, Rakhim!”
“Do yo’ daddy proud and wreck his ass!”
Avery turned around and bent over. He stuck his ass up high, too high for Rakhim to ram him in it. Rakhim had a beaming, prideful smile on his face until he saw Avery’s tight asshole twinkling in front of his face. Rakhim looked away.
“You scared?”
“Ain’t you evuh been locked up, Rakhim? This yo’ first time?”
Rakhim scoffed. “Course it’s my first time, nigga. I ain’t a booty bandit or nothin’. I ain’t gone inside. Nope. I said that before, nigga. I don’t mess around on the downlow,” he said.
“So this ain’t downlow? We can tell everyone?”
“No!”
“I’m tellin’ yo’ daddy,” Reg said with a grin. “I’m gonna call him right now. You gonna get in there?” Reg fished out his cell phone from his shorts pocket. He dialed a number. “No one prolly gonna answer, on ‘ccount of it’s a smuggled cell phone. They keep it turned off. They gonna call me back if yo’ daddy’s available.”
“You ain’t gotta tell my pops, Uncle Reg! Come on! Don’t tell him!”
“Why not?”
Rakhim’s mouth was agape, and he mumbled like he wanted to come up with a reason but couldn’t think of any. He just thought and stood there with his erect cock resting on the surface of Avery’s ass.
Avery got bored with waiting. He reached behind himself and grabbed Rakhim’s dick. His fingers shocked Rakhim out of his reverie, and Rakhim slapped his hands away.
“Nah! Don’t tell him, Uncle Reg! Quit playin’! Come on, nigga…” He paused. He grabbed Avery’s hand. “Get yo’ hand back here again, whiteman. You guide my dick in.” He put Avery’s hand right back where it had been before he smacked it away.
“Get in there, Rakhim!”
Rakhim took a deep breath and pushed his cock in. He gasped and gagged when it finally went in. He closed his eyes, and then he covered them with one tattooed forearm. His breathing was short and shallow as though he was on the verge of tears.
“You evuh ram a male in the ass?! Huh? Fo’ real?”
“No, man! I said that! I ain’t nevuh do it. I get pussy. I get females,” Rakhim said with a roar. He pounded on his chest muscles. “I get females beggin’ for my meat, you don’t even know!” The more he bragged, the more the others cackled and jeered at him. They kept squeezing his muscles, pretending to be girls overwhelmed with desire.
“Ooh, Rakhim, you turn me on so much, will you lick my butthole?!”
“Nothing turns me on more than watching niggas fail to dunk, Rakhim, that’s my kink. Come here and titty-fuck me!”
“If I threw a ball at you, Rakhim, could you not catch it? That makes my pussy so wet. I’m a fumble-holic, nigga.”
“Ooh, nigga, could you miss an easy lay-up while you fuck me, Rakhim? That’d be so hot.”
Someone gave Rakhim the ball that Avery had brought to the court. Rakhim scowled and ignored them, but a chant soon erupted. He held the ball.
“Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it!”
Finally Rakhim screamed in rage — he barely even paid attention to his cock sliding in and out of Avery’s ass right now — and threw the ball. He was behind the basket, so he had to throw it high to get it over the backboard.
The ball whiffed completely. It didn’t even touch the net. It bounced away on the ground, and the men erupted in cheers.
“That was so hot!”
“If you plow hard enough, Rakhim, you might grow some balls. Then you’d be a real boy, just like yo’ fairy godmother promised.”
“Fuck you!” Rakhim screamed and threw a punch, but with his dick in Avery’s ass, it was a useless gesture. He just flailed his fist in the direction of one the men. They all laughed and clapped. Rakhim shouted justifications — mainly claiming that Avery’s movement had distracted him — but no one could hear him over the sound of the others razzing him.
Rakhim seemed to realize that the only way out of this was to just finish up. The more he responded, the more the others teased him. He bit his lip, gritted his teeth and grabbed Avery by the cheeks to ram him harder. Then he realized he was touching a white man’s ass, and he let go with a pained grimace.
A cell phone rang. Everyone laughed, except Rakhim, who moaned, until Reg hushed them all and answered the phone. Reg serioused up. “Yo, nigga. Yo, I know you gotta pay for this, don’t worry, I put some money in yo’ commissary — nah, it ain’t ‘bout none of that, relax. It’s a joke,” Avery said. “Yo’ son is here gettin’ his cherry popped on the court.”
“I ain’t a virgin, pops! Shut up, Uncle Reg! Nah, that ain’t what’s happenin’! Nah! Nah!” Rakhim grabbed for the phone, but without pulling away from Avery’s ass. His cock throbbed and sent shivers of pleasure through Avery’s body. Rakhim flailed uselessly towards the phone in his uncle’s hands. Some of the other men slapped his hands down.
“Shut up, Rakhim.”
“Yeah, there’s some white man hanging out here. We set up a wager, and yo’ boy ain’t dunk one time — yeah, I know, he still short, he do think he can dunk-“
“I can dunk, nigga! My pops seen me dunk! He saw it!”
Reg was quiet for a moment. “He say you ain’t nevuh dunk on no regulation basket.”
“It was reg’lation, man! It was just as high as this one!” Rakhim pointed to the basket he had missed. “I can do it. I swear to God, I can do it.”
“You ain’t gotta swear to God to prove it, nigga. All you gotta do is do it.”
“Yeah, so he rammin’ that man. He deep in his ass right now. I think he might be in love.”
“Nuh-uh! Fuck you, Uncle Reg! Say that to my face! Come on!” Rakhim shouted. He seemed to have forgotten his dick was in Avery’s ass, and he pushed towards his uncle Reg. Avery squirmed and held back squeals, as the thick shaft in his guts sent paroxyms of pleasure through his body.
“He ain’t nevuh get no female, so this is sorta practice, you know. He learnin’ how to use his dick for the first time.” Reg paused and laughed at whatever Rakhim’s father said. Reg cleared his throat. “Hey, so you know that boy? What’s his name, Ramon? Yeah. He yo’ cell wife or what?” He paused, then said, “Ha! Tol’ you, nigga.” He put his phone on speaker. The sound of a crowded prison filled the air, macho grunting and a whistle in the distant background. “Go’n, say that again.”
A deep, gravelly voice intoned, “Ramon’s my boy. He’s my cell wife. I ram him all the damn time, nigga, you know that.”
“Nah! Tell ‘em the truth, Pops!” Rakhim shouted. “Fuck you all!”
They all laughed hard for a long time. Avery found it difficult to follow all this, because he jacked himself off while Rakhim rammed his ass. Rakhim’s cock was rock-hard even as he got embarrassed, and it tickled Avery’s prostate with every thrust of his hips.
Soon Avery shot his own load onto the ground. No one noticed because they were focused on Rakhim, who took the phone from Reg and spoke into it — it was off speakerphone now.
Rakhim’s voice went from macho and braggy to calm and respectful. “Hey, Pops. Uh-huh. Yeah. I’m doin’ it! Uncle Reg’s being a prick, nigga. I’m- Uh-huh. I know. Yeah. Yeah. Yes, sir,” Rakhim said. His voice was weak now, like he didn’t enjoy showing respect in front of others. He looked down at his cock, still pulsating in Avery’s ass. He stopped moving it, but Avery kept sliding back and forth, up and down on the shaft. “Yeah, I’m rammin’ him. Just… Pops… Come on, man… Yes, sir. I’m… Yeah, I can do it. I won’t. I won’t. I won’t! Shut up, man, I said I won’t! Why you gotta have a cell wife?! Tell him he gotta wear makeup! I got niggas in there, man, they tellin’ e’rybody — Mom don’t know! Mom don’t know ‘bout that shit! She don’t know nothin’- Nah, pops! Nah! Nah, nigga!” He paused and sighed. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sir, I don’t say the n-word that much, Uncle Reg got me worked up,” he whispered. Then he sighed again and gritted his teeth. An involuntary surge of sensations ran through his body, making his muscles all flex as his hips gyrated, forcing his cock in and outta Avery’s ass. “Yes, sir. Sorry. Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Yes, I’m going to church!”
“No he ain’t!”
“I ain’t seed him at church!” Reg shouted at the phone.
“I am going to church! I missed one week! Just one!” He paused. “I swear to God, Pops, just make him yo’ bitch. I don’t wanna hear that shit. Nah. Nah! He ain’t — Pops! Man, don’t say that! Don’t say that! If he can be yo’ cell wife, he can be yo’ bitch! Make him a bitch! Pimp him out! Fuck you then! No! No! Don’t-! Don’t tell her! Man… I’m sorry, Pops, just chill out. Don’t tell Mom. I ain’t mean it. I just… I got respec’ for you, Pops. I was just mad. Don’t call him yo’ cell wife.” He sighed again. “Yeah, fine. Okay. Yes, sir. I’ll… Yes, I’ll meet Ramon next month in visitation. Fine. I’ll be nice. Yes, sir. Don’t tell Mom.” He hung up the phone and handed it back to Reg. “He said he treats Ramon like a bitch. He just calls him a wife cuzza prison rules or some shit. Don’t mean nothing.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Okay, Rakhim,” Reg said with a snorting laugh. “You gonna cum or you gonna fall in love over there?”
“He gonna fall in love like his daddy did.” Rakhim looked down like he didn’t understand why his dick was in Avery’s ass, throbbing, sending spasms of ecstasy through Avery’s tense body. Avery groaned and moaned into the asphalt of the Bullmass Park court.
“He ain’t in love! It ain’t real love anyway, it’s prison love. All y’all shut up! He ain’t takin’ dick! He’s on top anyway, I know that!” Rakhim said, his eyes closed. They all tittered with laughter, which made Rakhim frown though he didn’t say anything else. He just gripped Avery by the ass and started ramming again.
Then he twitched like he hadn’t meant to touch Avery’s ass with his hands. He grimaced and let go. He kept ramming back and forth though.
Avery had already shot his wad onto the floor, so every stroke of Rakhim’s cock inside him just extended his post-orgasmic bliss. His ass was in terrible pain now, since Rakhim had a huge cock and rammed with it clumsily, obviously having never stuck anyone in the ass before (probably including women). But the pleasure of the man’s cock throbbing inside him combined with the arousal flowing through Avery’s body to make him writhe uncontrollably. Avery felt like he was falling apart.
“I can ram you so hard, whiteman, you gonna be beggin’ me for mercy,” Rakhim said, his voice trailing off like he realized he was making a boast he might not be able to back up. He wrapped one of his arms around Avery’s throat. “Gonna treat you like a prison bitch. This is prolly how that bitch Ramon gets it.”
He put Avery in a loose chokehold and slammed his cock in, moving his hips around as though he needed to do it from every angle. He groaned and grunted into Avery’s ear. Avery moaned and bucked, resisting at first then allowing Rakhim to ram him harder and harder.
“Fuck you, man, fuck you!” Rakhim hissed directly into Avery’s ear. That made Avery shudder with both fear and desire, and his ass clenched around Rakhim’s cock.
At last that was it. Rakhim groaned, and it was obvious he was relieved to finally finish. The other men clapped. His voice broke in Avery’s ear, his breath condensing on his skin.
“Oh damn, I guess those balls do work.”
Hot cum flew into Avery’s ass. Rakhim was young so his balls were full, bursting with juices. It all flowed into Avery like his cock was a hose, and his cum sprayed throughout Avery’s body. He could feel it trickling into every corner of his flesh. A surprised moan came Rakhim, and an intense moan boomed out of Avery’s mouth.
Some of it seeped down his thighs too, trickling onto the ground and the puddle of Avery’s own cum. Rakhim roared and pounded on his chest, breathing heavily. His roar was interrupted by his own gasp, and then he snarled as Reg pinched his asscheek again.
“There you go, you got it. You worked hard for yo’ money, nigga,” Reg said.
Rakhim nodded. “Uh-huh. Tol’ you. Told you I could do it.”
“You said you could make him beg you-“
“He begged. I heard it,” Rakhim said. He pulled out and grimaced, gagging at the sight of Avery’s cum-filled asshole. Avery giggled and squeezed his ass, making a big clump of cum slide down his leg. The men all laughed and clapped. Rakhim took a deep breath. “I did it, nigga.” He paused. “Wait, what? Whatchoo sayin’ ‘bout money?”
No one answered him. They all exchanged knowing glances. Rakhim furrowed his brow, looking right at Reg. He didn’t notice Avery pull out his checkbook and start writing.
“Huh? Uncle Reg, what was you sayin’?”
Avery handed Rakhim a check for eleven hundred dollars — the extra was to cover the cost of cashing the check at a payday-loan place. Rakhim took the check, but it didn’t register, he just scowled at Reg.
“Uncle Reg, what did-?” He saw the check. “What’s this? Huh?”
Avery just walked away, cum still dribbling down his thighs. He squeezed between two sweaty bodies, since the men were still interlocked in a tight circle. He kept his tongue out as he went so he got to lick all the salty sweat off one man’s ebony torso on his way out. Whoever it was jumped away like Avery’s tongue was painful.
“Yo, did he just pay me?! Why ain’t you tell me I was gettin’ paid?! Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, nigga! Hell yeah, I got white men payin’ fo’ my meat. Ain’t nothin’ wrong ‘bout that. You tell my pops, right? He won’t believe me. Uncle Reg, you gonna tell him?”
“Nah. I will tell yo’ moms though.”

The Gangbanger

Rico is temporarily homeless, but luckily his gang gives him a place to stay… but he’s got a roommate. His name is Thumper, and he’s an old head, an ex-con and a booty bandit to boot! Can Rico satisfy his new roommate’s unbridled desires?!

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Read the whole thing here!

Rico walked into the Cityside Barbershop. Heart thumping, he carried with him virtually all of his belongings in a trash bag. He hoped nobody who saw him knew that. He tried to look cocky. The people in the barbershop — barbers and customers — looked at him like they knew what was up, like they could tell at a glance what he was: homeless.
He tried not to think of himself as homeless, even though he knew that’s precisely what he was.
He had money. Not quite enough to rent a nice place, but he might have been able to get a cheap room somewhere. The downside to that was that he wouldn’t be able to afford to save up enough to afford somewhere nicer. His stepdad kicking him out without warning had really put a damper on things.
The last couple months had been rough for Rico. After losing two ounces of heroin, he was in trouble with his boss in the Bloods, Thumper. Then his girlfriend dumped him, and now his stepfather had kicked him out as punishment for selling drugs. Everything was going wrong in Rico’s life. Six months ago he was the most respected gangbanger in the Bloods. Today, he was a hobo, considering whether he could squat above a barbershop for free. What time does a barbershop open in the morning? Probably early.
Avoiding eye contact, Rico went into the backroom. He had a feeling the customers and barbers at the Barbershop knew why he was carrying a trash bag into the back. He also knew that Thumper didn’t tell them, but they looked at him with a mixture of pity and scorn. They knew he was homeless.
Of course no one said anything. Everyone pretended to think Thumper was merely taking in a roommate half his age, rent-free. Which he was. There was just more to the story, and all them all knew it.
Behind the Cityside Barbershop was a staircase that led to an apartment on the second floor of the building. That was Thumper’s apartment. To be more precise, it was a Bloods apartment, and the Bloods let Thumper live in it because Thumper did thirty-four years for the Bloods. They owed him, and part of that was giving him a free apartment.
The catch was that Thumper had to share it with a young nigga now and then, which did not bother Thumper. It did bother Rico.
He heavyfooted into the apartment, a feeling dread spreading deep in his loins. Rico had the sinking feeling that this was adulthood, and he was soon going to wish he was a teenager again. High school was so simple, but so long ago. Thumper was in his forties, maybe older, which was ancient as far as Rico was concerned.
When Rico arrived, Thumper was in his living room, meeting with a few other gangbangers. As they all finished up Bloods business, Rico “moved in”, a process completed when he dropped his trash bag.
There was no spare bedroom, so Rico was sleeping on the couch. He was fine with that because he hoped it would spur him into finding a new place. He didn’t want to live here forever, like Thumper’s little butt-boy.
“Yo, Rico, come here and rap at us,” Thumper said, the meeting dwindling as the others left one by one. His voice was deep and tough, commanding respect. “We talkin’ ‘bout what to do regardin’ the Sweet Hill boys. Whatchoo think?”
“Well, I think we gotta beat them niggas down,” Rico said, more because he wanted to seem tough than because he had any particular knowledge of the situation. He was only vaguely aware that the Sweet Hill gang had begun selling crack on territory the Bloods considered to be their own.
“Alright, that’s a plan,” Thumper said. He smiled at Rico. “You get yo’ niggas together and do it this week, okay?”
Rico hadn’t thought he’d be put in charge of it, but he could hardly say no when Thumper was letting him stay here rent-free. He nodded as though it wasn’t going to be difficult. Some of the other thugs looked at Rico pitiably, and Rico tried not to notice.
Now the big problem Rico had was that he needed to find some niggas who were willing to put their lives at risk for a plan Rico hadn’t come up with yet to attack some unknown number of strangers somewhere in the city. Rico was going to struggle to put that crew together, and he wondered if Thumper had assigned him that role to see if he was up to snuff, if could actually put plans together. As a true blue gangbanger — or a true red gangbanger, as Rico liked to think of it — Rico very much thought of himself as capable of doing that.
But none of his friends would even let him sleep on their couch, so Rico had doubts he could get them to go in at the Sweet Hill boys guns blazing.
Thumper clapped his hands together as though the Sweet Hill problem was as good as solved, and the last few Bloods headed out the door. Rico’s mind raced as he tried to think of a way out of this. He shouldn’t have agreed to the Sweet Hill mission so readily. He didn’t even know where Sweet Hill was — Sweet Hill was the name of the shopping center with the CVS and the T-Mobile store. Was Rico supposed to gather a crew to go shoot up the T-Mobile store? He couldn’t very well ask Thumper now, could he? He’d already agreed to do it, he’d look like an idiot admitting only now that he didn’t know where the Sweet Hill boys were, who they were, how to hit them, how many they were, etc.
And no guns! Rico didn’t have any guns! He had a week to put together a crew, find out what and where the Sweet Hill boys are, find guns, go in shooting, succeed in intimidating them and dispose of the guns and perhaps dead bodies. Since he’d agreed to do it so confidently, if he succeeded — which he obviously wouldn’t — but if he succeeded, he’d barely get any credit for it. Thumper would just say ‘good job, you did what you said you’d do’.
He should have made a bigger deal out of how difficult it would be. Maybe he could have gotten Thumper to at least provide the guns.
Once the door shut, Rico was alone with Thumper for the first time ever — it hadn’t occurred to Rico until this moment that he had never been alone with Thumper. Thumper was one of the head honchos in the Bloods, but Rico had only ever spent time with him in a group.
Now he very much wished one of his niggas had let him sleep on the couch.
The apartment stayed silent once the others were gone. Rico gulped. Sweat beaded on his forehead because he sensed Thumper staring at him, evaluating him, maybe just seeing how long he’d take being stared at before he snapped. Thumper was like that. He be testing niggas.
“You ever mess around on the downlow, Rico?” Thumper asked after a long, awkward silence fell between them.
“Uh, yeah. Once,” Rico said. He instantly regretted saying that. It was true, but he had heard Thumper was often on the downlow with his close niggas — only for Thumper, “downlow” meant you serviced him, not any kind of reciprocal behavior. That wasn’t what Rico meant by it.
Rico looked down at his feet, avoiding eye contact from Thumper.
After a long pause, Thumper raised his eyebrows. “Just once, huh? You do it with a nigga you respec’?”
“I guess so.” Rico didn’t know how to answer that. He did it with Kayshawn Henderson, who he didn’t really respect or get along with — they were just drunk — but he didn’t want to explain that to Thumper. Kayshawn wasn’t even a Blood. Plus it was downlow, which means secret. Thumper might be angry if Rico shared a secret, because Thumper trusted Rico not to spill the beans on Bloods business.
“Huh,” Thumper said with a knowing nod. He raised his eyebrows. Rico sighed. He winced. He got a very strong impression that Thumper wanted Rico to jerk him off.
Thumper was like that. After thirty-four years in prison, Thumper did not jack himself off. He saw it as demeaning. He often demanded niggas jack him off — with mouth! Swallowing! The whole nine yards! Rico could understand the impulse. He didn’t like jacking himself off either. It made him feel like an immature brat.
But he couldn’t bring himself to mouth Thumper off. Thumper was an old man by Rico’s standards. It would be humiliating. Thumper could get any random crackhead in this neighborhood to mouth him off.
Thumper crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating the softball-sized pecs beneath his tight t-shirt. He ran his tongue over his teeth and clucked. “Huh,” he said again.
“Thumper, I… Uh, thanks a lot fo’ lettin’ me stay here,” Rico said. His heart raced again. Just like when he was nervous those niggas in the barbershop would realize he was homeless, he was nervous now that all the niggas in the Bloods would hear about him jerking Thumper off.
Thumper nodded.
Rico sighed again. This wouldn’t be that bad, he thought, he’d done it before. A lot of Bloods had jerked Thumper off too — Thumper loved finding reasons to make a loyal Blood do it, like if they fucked something up. So nobody would be shocked to find out Rico did it. In fact, they’d probably assume he did, cuz Thumper seemed like the type to make his roommate jerk him off. He was precisely that kind of nigga, and Rico was too young and powerless in the organization to resist.
When Thumper had stood before him for what seemed like a long time, Rico sunk to his knees, afront the couch he was to sleep on tonight. Thumper seemed huge from down below him. Rico gulped.
At last that position made Thumper grunt out his satisfaction. He stood still, looming over Rico, who winced and wished there was another position to do it in — he could hardly make demands though — it would be less humiliating if Thumper sat on the couch and Rico could lay down on it or something like that. Any position in which Rico didn’t have to kneel like a beggar would be an improvement.
Rico waited for a moment, thinking Thumper would take his own dick out, but he didn’t. He just towered over Rico and watched. Rico winced at the realization that Thumper wanted Rico to take it out. That was prison bitch stuff, he thought.
Reaching up for Thumper’s dick, Rico shuddered. Then, much to his surprise, Thumper batted his hand away.
“You should ask a nigga fo’ permission befo’ you start stroking his dick,” Thumper said. “If that’s what you wanna do.”
Rico spoke quietly, blushing so hard his cheeks burned. “Thumper… do you want, uh…? I mean… is it okay, uh, if I jerk you off?”
“That’s a real nice offer, nigga. That’s a good gesture,” he said, as though it was the first time he had said that word and was unsure how to pronounce it. Before Rico could undo his belt, Thumper clucked his disapproval. “Play wit’ it through my pants first, nigga. Go slow, make it feel good.”
Rico blanched and winced. He gently stroked the bulge in Thumper’s dick, and for some reason just feeling that spongy flesh through his jeans made Rico gag. Thumper’s manhood stirred beneath the denim. He groaned in a way that made Rico shiver with disgust. He groaned like he was on the verge of orgasm, even though all Rico had done was touch his dickshaft through his jeans. Thumper wasn’t even hard.
He took Thumper’s belt in hand to undo it, but Thumper stopped him. He dragged Rico’s hand back to the bulge in his jeans. “No, don’t take my pants off,” Thumper said. “Just undo the fly and take it out. Look me in the eye when you jerk me off. That’s a mark of respec’, nigga.”
His hands trembled. Rico wasn’t sure if he could do that — stroking another man’s cock was humiliating enough, but looking Thumper in the eye while he did it would make it even worse. The zipper seemed impossibly loud, and when it was open, Rico got a burst of stale crotch sweat in his nostrils. He gagged again, and Thumper clucked with disapproval once more.
“You may take it out now, Rico,” Thumper said. Something in the way he said his name made Rico shudder all over again.
Rico had to reach in to pull out Thumper’s dick, which was still soft and veiny, dark brown like dirt, slick with sweat. He wanted to wipe it off, but Rico was sure Thumper would say that was disrespectful. The smell of unwashed ballsweat made Rico’s stomach churn.
That cock was huge. Rico knew Thumper had a big one, lots of niggas said so, but he had never seen it in person. It was a foot long even fully soft, and it was hot and slimy with sweat, so thick Rico could barely get his whole hand around it. It dangled afront Thumper’s crotch, and it swayed like a pendulum when Thumper moved.
Rico opened his mouth and closed his eyes, and he waited.
After a few seconds of nothing happening, Rico opened his eyes again. Thumper’s dick was still there, still limp, and seeing it made the smell of crotchsweat more potent, so Rico bit back a gag. That was when he looked up and saw Thumper’s furrowed brow aimed down at him. Rico gulped.
“Well? Put’cha mouth on it, nigga,” Thumper said. “Get’cha hands on it. Is you showin’ respec’ or not?”
“I am-“
“Then do somethin’ with it,” Thumper said. He put his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows.
Rico touched it again, gently with one hand, which he then wrapped around the shaft. He grimaced. This was a lot easier with Kayshawn, he thought. Then they were drunk, having snuck booze into a church lock-in, and they were sharing a bed, the lights stayed off, they barely talked, it was more of an accidental fumbling thing than a real downlow “seduction” of any kind. By the time Rico pondered it, it was over with.
This felt entirely different. Thumper’s cock had that old-man smell too, with seemingly too much dickskin. Rico didn’t like how it roped around in his grasp as he stroked it gingerly, slowly, as badly as possible at first because he didn’t want a reputation for doing it good, then he realized the better his hands were, the less Thumper might demand he use his mouth, so Rico stroked it as good as he could. Thumper kept letting out little moans and pumping his hips as though so horny he couldn’t resist attempting at Rico’s mouth. Thumper’s dick stayed soft though, and he was obviously not that horny, he was just pretending.
“Hmm, you got a real pretty mouth, nigga,” Thumper murmured. “Put it on my dick.”
Rico winced, but he opened his mouth. He held onto Thumper’s cock by the root with one hand, and he moved his open mouth in that direction with his eyes scrunched shut. Thumper used both hands to guide Rico’s head until his mouth and nose collided with Thumper’s sweaty cockshaft.
A furious gag came outta Rico’s mouth as Thumper’s spongy limp dick touched his lips and then his tongue. There was already a slight cummy taste, either precum from Rico’s masturbating it through Thumper’s pants or maybe left over from something else. Maybe it was leftover from when he was “on the downlow” with some other nigga, Rico didn’t know how often a downlow gangbanger like Thumper would do that. Maybe lots. They said he was a booty bandit in prison.
Thumper kept his arms over his chest, so Rico had to chase his cock with his mouth. Every time the tip got in his mouth, he tasted sweaty old-nigga nastiness again, gagged and spat it out. Thumper wasn’t getting an erection like that.
But rico couldn’t quite bring himself to go any deeper than the tip. Even that felt impossibly thick, and Rico wasn’t sure he could go any farther. Thumper’s dick was thicker than his mouth.
“When you handle the dick of a nigga you respec’, Rico, you should deep-throat it,” Thumper said. “You know what that means? You evuh get head from a girl?”
“Yes!” Rico said, annoyed at Thumper’s patronizing tone.
“Don’t you talk to me like that, nigga,” Thumper said, his voice growly and threatening. Rico shuddered. Thumper forced his eyes open — Rico hadn’t even noticed he closed them — and sneered down at Rico. “Real niggas got backup plans, Rico, you know that? They ready to get kicked outta they place. They got cash.”
Rico wanted to defend himself, but when he tried to pull off Thumper’s dick, Thumper’s hands gripped his head and held it in place. Thumper growled again, and he pushed Rico’s head deeper onto his shaft. Rico gagged all over again as that cock pushed into his throat.
“Take my balls out wit’ one hand, and play wit’ em. Gentle-like,” Thumper said. He groaned as Rico did so, gingerly playing with his sweaty sac. The feel of that slick flesh made Rico’s stomach churn. His cock throbbed and grew warmer and warmer as it firmed up in Rico’s mouth. “Yeah, that’s nice, nigga. That’s respec’.”
The sour flavor of precum assaulted Rico’s senses, and brought tears to his eyes. He was glad it was dark enough in this room that Thumper couldn’t see — it wasn’t really crying anyway, he thought, it was tears from suffocation and stress, not being a pansy. He didn’t think Thumper would acknowledge a difference though.
The tasty of sweaty cockmeat grew more and more tolerable, though Rico thought that was mainly because he sucked up all the sweat and grime, replacing it with plain spit. The veiny shaft invaded his throat with each powerful thrust of Thumper’s cock.
The moist grunting of Thumper’s voice was offputting to Rico. He sounded like a rutting animal, and it reminded Rico that his mouth was just being used now. Thumper was going to continue to use his mouth and body — though hopefully not his ass — until Rico moved out. That was possibly the entire reason Thumper offered to let him stay here.
“Whatchoo plan wit’ my nut?” Thumper asked as he groaned.
Rico didn’t understand the question. He just looked up at Thumper, and tried to ignore that massive shaft drilling into his throat. All of a sudden, a burst of salty precum hit his tongue, and Rico gagged violently.
But Thumper kept a grip on his head. Rico tried to look down as he retched, only he couldn’t with Thumper’s hands on his head. All he could do was gag up around the erect cock bobbing around on his face, leaving a layer of precum that only made him gag again and again.
“Huh? I’m gonna blow my load,” Thumper said. “Whatchoo gonna do wit’ it? You want me to shoot it on yo’ face or what? In yo’ hand? You need a plan.”
Rico was glad to hear that he had a choice. He pulled off Thumper’s dick, intending to say in my hand, which was the least objectionable option. But then he saw Thumper’s scrunched-up face, and Rico knew this was a test. He wasn’t sure exactly what the answer was, but in my hand wasn’t it.
“Think long and hard, Rico. You got a lotta factors to consider. Yo’ respec’ fo’ me, if you got any,” Thumper said. He sniffled.
“I’ll… uh, swallow it,” Rico said, wincing as Thumper mollwopped his erection onto Rico’s face, smearing spit and precum all over it. He held his breath to avoid gagging.
“Yeah,” Thumper said. “You will. But befo’ that, I wanna see it. I like seeing it. Play’ wit’ it a bit.”
“Oh.”
“So whatchoo think?”
“I, uh… I guess I’ll do that.”
“So where you want me to nut? In yo’ mouth?”
It was obvious he wanted Rico to say yes, so he did so. Then Thumper pushed his cock back in Rico’s mouth. He grunted as he wrapped his hands behind Rico’s head.
He thrust his hips so powerfully his cockshaft pushed down Rico’s throat until his nose was nestled in Thumper’s pubic hair. Rico couldn’t even gag because his throat was so choked with throbbing dickmeat. All he could do was sit there on his knees and let it happen.
“That’s a good idea, Rico. I’ll shoot my load in yo’ mouth, just like you askin’ me to. That’s very respec’ful, nigga. Don’t swallow nothin’ till I tell you to, okay? We gonna play a bit first.”
Rico nodded, but even as he did, Thumper was blowing his wad. He shot it right in the back of Rico’s throat. Some of it dripped into his gullet, but Rico instinctively avoided swallowing it. He would have accidentally spilled it all but Thumper kept a tight grip on his head. Thumper grunted, rutting like a pig as his fat cock spasmed inside Rico.
At last it was over, and a burst of jizz spurted onto Rico’s tongue. Salty cum filled his mouth. It seemed like a huge amount, but Rico wasn’t sure how much was normal or how much it really was. His stomach churned with disgust, begging him to spit it out. The sour and salty flavor made his eyes water all over again, and he had to hold back a violent retch.
“Open up,” Thumper said, his voice wavering as another jet of cum hit Rico’s mouth. He kneeled down and looked in. “Come on,” he said. “It’s dark in here. I wanna see yo’ pretty-boy mouth.”
Gagging and holding onto his stomach, Rico managed to spread his lips without spilling any of the cum filling his mouth, as Thumper’s dicktip hovered over his face and spewed a few final drops onto his nose and upper lip. Thumper looked into his mouth as though trying to find something. He smiled with satisfaction, then spat right into it. The bitterness of his saliva made Rico choke. He nearly spilled but Thumper held him by the neck.
“That’s a big one,” Thumper said. He stuck one finger in, all the way back until Rico gagged. Then Thumper held the palm of his hand out until Rico spat the entire wad into it. Rico was glad to be rid of it, though he could still feel that snotty texture on his tongue. There was a pubic hair stuck in the back of his throat too, but he couldn’t spit it out right now.
Thumper raised his eyebrows as Rico got ahold of his stomach and his gagging. He kept that cum-filled palm right in front of Rico’s face, where the scent assaulted his nostrils, making it hard for Rico to regain his composure. Thumper cleared his throat. “I’ll ignore your gagging, Rico. That’s rude, but I understand…” It was obvious he wanted Rico to suck the cum back up, and he raised his eyebrows as though to say You better do it now, it’ll get worse when it’s cold. Rico opened his mouth, but Thumper cleared his throat and shook his head.
Rico blushed. “Uh… Thumper, can I eat your nut?”
“Yes, you may. Thank you for askin’, nigga.”
Rico gagged and nearly vomited as he sucked it off Thumper’s callused palm. He choked it down and waited there, blushing intensely as Thumper looked him in the eye. Then Thumper’s fingers forced his mouth open, and he checked that Rico had swallowed the whole thing. Rico felt that hot lump in his belly, the creamy texture and the sheer warmth of it suffusing into his flesh.
“Good,” he said. “Now go to sleep. Set yo’ alarm for seven o’clock, nigga. By seven-thirty, I want you wakin’ me up wit’ yo’ prettyboy mouth on my dick again. Have breakfast ready when you swallow my first nut of the day. You understand?”
“Yes, Thumper,” Rico said. He gulped. Remnants of jizz shone all over his mug. “I’ll do it.”
“I know. I ain’t ax fo’ yo’ agreement, Rico. I axt fo’ yo’ comprehension. Yo’ agreement is assumed,” Thumper said. He slapped his limp dick over Rico’s face again. “Don’t wipe that nut off yo’ face. I wanna see it dried on there in the morning.”

The Veteran

Avery is hoping to see some admirable male physiques at a notorious campground, so he hangs out cruising the scene. When one alpha male Army vet catches his eye, Avery is off to the races in hopes of landing the outrageous manhood of this military stud.

Can Avery land the man of his dreams?

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Avery leaned back in his camp chair and sipped at his nalgene bottle full of ice-cold water. He had a cooler in the tent. It tasted good. It had taken him hours to get all set up. Putting a tent up seemed to get more arduous every time he did it, he thought, as his joints got older.
Campgrounds always made him feel old these days anyway. It seemed like everyone he saw was younger than him. Public campgrounds like this used to be full of older people. That was what Avery thought about them when he was growing up. It was a place full of old people. Now, he was the old people.
He was in rural Wyoming. He didn’t know any of the people, but he knew that, sooner or later, he’d make a friend. The people in this kind of place were always nice. That was why Avery liked to hang out in campgrounds.
That and the fact that men with excellent physiques were usually there too. Fat and skinny men as well, but not as many. Maybe, Avery thought, the out-of-shape ones were at home eating potato chips and commenting on the internet, leaving the more well-formed men to throng in place like this, the Crambighter Woods campground.
“Anybody wanna drum fo’ us? We need some rhythm, boy howdy!”
“Who got a percussion?”
A band was starting up, an impromptu group around the campfire near Avery’s tent. They had been talking about music and discovered several of them had brought guitars, so they started tuning up.
“I can drum,” Avery said when he casually milled in that direction. He was self-conscious because it seemed a lot of these guys knew each other. But he wanted to fit in, and he was a drummer — he had even been in a band as a teenager.
Someone produced a bongo drum. Avery had never actually used one, but once he got started, he got the hang of it. It wasn’t any different than the drumsticks he was used to.
It was just a jam session — not even any singing. They played popular songs by the Rolling Stones, Beatles, Hank Williams Jr, Dwight Yoakam. Avery just played the rhythm, but he didn’t mind. He liked being part of the group.
There were quite a few women at the Crambighter this weekend. That was a well-known campground with lots of ladies, giving the men plenty of opportunities for sex. That was a big part of why so many men came here. Avery was only interested in the men — women bored him — but he appreciated the women because they attracted the men. A lot of the ladies were’t that ladylike anyway — some were outright prostitutes. That would make it difficult for Avery to find a man willing to swing downlow. The handsomest ones had women hanging off them.
As Avery started banging out a Funkadelic song — a man with a bass had shown up and requested it — he took stock of his options. There was a blond long-haired stud who looked Nordic, but he had a woman with him and Avery gathered from her body language that they were going to go off and fuck soon. There was a scruffy young biker-type (impossible to tell if he was really a biker or not, but his beard and tattoos made him look bikerish, or at least he was attempting to come across that way) who looked promising but had gotten drunk. He would be too drunk by the time Avery managed to get him alone.
All that guy-watch made Avery lose the rhythm for a moment. Luckily no one noticed in the cacophony of guitars. It was hard to stay in sync, because Avery was pretty sure some of the guys were playing “Up for the Downstroke” — technically a Parliament song — instead of “Hit It & Quit It” as they had agreed.
A man caught Avery’s eye, and that made him stop drumming for a moment.
He looked military. He definitely wasn’t, judging from the mustache which was surely not regulation, but he had a crew-cut and he was slightly balding, and he wore a green tee shirt like a soldier over workpants splattered with white paint. He was in his mid-forties, older than most of the men here, and he slightly balding, but his tight tee shirt showed off a potent body. He wore his pants high — very unfashionable — and heavy boots on his broad feet.
Maybe a cop? He looked like maybe a cop. But there were people smoking weed not far away — Avery had smelled it earlier — so he thought a cop, even an off-duty one, would have either intervened or left. Maybe a former cop.
He certainly carried himself like an authority figure, that was for sure. He glowered at the carousing, drunk bikers and rednecks who fell over each other around the campfire. He didn’t say anything. Was he here with someone? Avery didn’t think so.
As Avery banged on his bongo, he saw the man talk to a woman finally. He looked stiff, nervous like a man half his age, and Avery could tell instantly that she was turned off. She was blatantly the fun-loving youngster-type, Avery thought, she was never going to go for a dowdy daddy like him.
But Avery did overhear — in a brief break in the song — that the man’s name was Bernard. That was a great name for a sturdy man, Avery thought, it made him think of big dogs and mountain passes.
“Play ‘Free Bird’!”
“Who wants to blow this joint?”
“Yeah!” A chorus of agreement rang out. It seemed nobody wanted to play “Free Bird”. Avery certainly didn’t. He had his limits.
The band disbanded to go smoke weed. Avery wasn’t interested in that either. He milled about and saw Bernard talk to another woman, this one a bit older, plumper, precisely the type who might like Bernard’s thick body and burly middle-aged look.
But in the hustle of everyone switching places, Avery was jostled about and he lost track of Bernard. He was pretty sure Bernard had gone into a tent with the thick girl.
Oh well… Avery sighed. That little opportunity was busted. He ought to have gone smoking weed with the other guys. Now he both didn’t have Bernard and wasn’t stoned.
He was alone again. Hot chicks had hooked up with handsome guys with nice cars; fat chicks had hooked up with handsome guys without cars; couples had retired to their tents, and the night was drawing to a close.
It was funny how that happened so fast at campground events like this. Once a few charismatic people realized they were tired — or found someone and somewhere to fuck — the remainder were all introverted weirdos like Avery. The party dwindled.
That wasn’t a problem for Avery’s plans. In an hour or two, any man who had failed to land a woman would be ripe for the plucking. Anyone drunk would be passed out cold. Avery could take his pick from the remainder, most of whom would be horny enough and desperate enough to at least let Avery give them a handjob.
But he had to wait a bit for that. He decided to go take a shower. Not only were there probably lots of men there, he just plain needed to bathe.
The showerhouse was near the entrance to the Crambighter Campground. Avery flopped there in his sandals, carrying a towel and his shower gear. He went to the adult men’s side — it was divided into quarters, for adults and juveniles, both male and female (though this weekend was an adults-only event, which was why drinking was allowed).
No one was in there. Avery was disappointed. Maybe he was going to strike out tonight after all. It seemed the women this weekend were determined to use up all the men. The showerhouse was big and empty, cold until he turned the hot water on. At least the lack of people meant there was plenty of hot water.
Avery started showering by himself. It felt lonely in that big cavernous space all alone. He wished someone else would be here, even some old loser.
The door swung open, and Avery held his breath — it took a few moments for whoever it was to come around the corner.
It was him!
It was Bernard. Avery was giddy, and his heart skipped a beat. Bernard hadn’t hooked up with that plump girl after all. Her loss.
He glanced at Avery and nodded a polite hello, then went to the changing area. Bernard had a furrowed brow, and his muscles were tense from the moment he walked in. Was that a bulge in his workpants? Did he have a hardon?
That was when Avery noticed the little cut on his cheek, which was red. He had been slapped.
That explained it! He had hooked up with the heavy girl, but he must have come on too strong or something. She slapped him, and judging from the bruising Avery saw, she either did it a couple times or she really packed a wallop. Either option seemed possible.
Bernard hesitated. He eyed the slim white man — Avery — with a dim eye. He rather wished he was showering alone, as then he could jack himself off. He needed that. That plump woman had blueballed him. When he dropped his pants — standing behind the barrier that protected the changing area from the showers — he saw that his dick was still hard.
Instead he just stood there and sighed. When he realized that made him seem weirder than having a hardon would be, he just shrugged and went into the showering area. Avery stared at his erect cock when it became visible.
“Don’t make fun, man,” Bernard said, his voice a low throaty growl, like he didn’t speak often and his vocal cords were unpracticed. He looked at his massive dick, still mostly hard and throbbing, begging for action. “I got hard earlier and couldn’t get it down, I was wit’ this female, man, and she slapped the shit outta me. Got me all worked up and then ain’t wanna put out.”
“Oh yeah? That sucks…” Avery clucked his tongue. “You poor baby.”
Bernard nodded and stepped under the showerhead furthest from Avery. “Wish I was drunk,” Bernard said. The water sprayed over his broad chest. His body hair was already matted to his skin with sweat — he was palpably hot, Avery could feel his body heat when he walked by, his plump but chunky thick-body ass jiggling as he did. Avery saw that erect cock and had to stop himself from drooling.
Avery’s mind raced as he considered what it might take to land a taste of Bernard’s excellent meat.
“Man, she invited me into her tent, ‘nd shit, man, swear to god, she was beggin’ for it. Then all of a sudden she say she only doin’ handstuff.” He threw his hands in the air — revealing big bushy armpits — and scowled. “What the fuck? Is we in middle school again? She was like nearly thirty…” He rolled his eyes. “Doin’ handstuff…”
Avery chuckled. “Yeah… girls can be teases.”
“Yeah.” Bernard grunted. “I can do handstuff mah own goddamn self!” He poured shampoo into his hand and washed his scalp — his hair was so short Avery didn’t see the point, but he didn’t say that out loud. Maybe it was dandruff shampoo.
“You still have a hardon.”
As he rinsed the shampoo off his scalp, Bernard opened his eyes and glowered darkly at Avery. Obviously Avery wasn’t supposed to mention it after Bernard already apologized for it. Avery smiled at him, and he turned his hips so Bernard could see his pale, smooth ass.
Bernard groaned.
Avery saw the thoughts flicker over Bernard’s face. Avery didn’t make any offer yet, wanting to give Bernard a chance to ruminate on his options. Avery continued washing his body with a washcloth, making sure his smoothness and petite frame were visible in the dim light of the showerhouse. He turned around to dance his ass towards Bernard.
Bernard narrowed his eyes to slits at the sight of Avery’s plump bubble-butt. Avery was slim, but his ass was thick, plump, smooth. It looked tight too. Bernard could just plow into that. It would feel so good, he thought.
But he wasn’t going to do that.
He had done it, once, back in boot camp. He and a buddy had had leave together, and when Bernard was unable to find a prostitute — this was back in the 1970s in a remote part of Alaska — he had traded mouth with his buddy. They just jacked each other off first, but when that proved difficult to cum to, they had sixty-nined. Later, Bernard woke up to find himself grinding his cock into his buddy’s asshole and giving a reacharound as he did it.
That had been one crazy weekend that he had blocked out of his mind. Bernard didn’t think about that, and when he did think about it, he tried to convince himself it hadn’t happened.
But his cock, he soon realized, had gotten harder since he walked in here. It wasn’t going to go down. It throbbed and pulsated like it had a mind of its own, a mind that was demanding a warm, tight place to ram itself into. The more he looked at Avery’s taut ass and his creamy smooth skin like a woman’s, the more Bernard wanted him.
He has such soft lips too, Bernard though, be he could do amazing things with those lips.
“So do you have a wife?” Avery asked. He already guessed the answer, but he wanted to keep Bernard thinking about women and sex.
“No.” Bernard grunted. His mind raced too fast to think of anything to say except touch my dick, which he couldn’t bring himself to say no matter how much he wanted it to happen.
“Are you okay? You looked upset,” Avery said. “Or maybe it’s just that hardon that won’t go away. You want me to help?”
“Uh…” Bernard closed his eyes. He spread his legs and put his hands behind his back as though he was at parade rest. He jutted his hips forward enough to make his foot-long dick stick out, making it look even bigger. His chest muscles rippled.
That was a pretty clear signal, Avery thought. He came closer.
Bernard looked so handsome, like an AWOL soldier about to be scolded by his commanding officer. He winced even before Avery got on his knees in front of him. Avery waited a good long time to give him a chance to change his mind — he knew Bernard was ready when he peeked his eyes open to see why Avery hadn’t started yet.
Avery plunged deep on his dick then, all in one smooth motion, slamming his head all the way down. He wanted to interrupt that parade-rest position, but Bernard forced himself to stay put. He swayed back and forth but didn’t move his feet or his hands. His chest muscles all flexed like it took all of his effort to avoid moving his hands — he no doubt wanted to hold Avery’s head and ram his throat — alphas always wanted that — but thought that would feel too weird.
It was cute to watch. Bernard furiously squeezed his eyes shut and refused to move either his feet or his arms. He was so focused on keeping his limbs still that he made lots of horse-like snorting and whinnying sounds as his hips tossed his upper body around like a bobblehead.
His dick tasted like the paint-stained workpants he had been wearing. That was because he had gotten hard wearing them, Avery thought — he’d long noticed that men who concealed hardons in their pants ended up smelling like their pants when they finally got their dick out, like the scent of his fabric had seeped into his dickshaft. He must have been horny enough with that woman to leak some precum from his dick, because Avery could taste the salt of recently dried funk on his shaft as well. Avery’s tongue slathered spit up and down, gathering up all that stale flavor and the desperate sexual frustration in Bernard’s manhood.
“Ah, goddamn, man… Shit, I needed that…” Bernard’s tension slowly melted away. His muscles gradually relaxed. He remained at parade-rest, hands firmly locked on his own wrists behind his ass. His whole body tensed and flexed and buckled, as he let out petite groans and grunts.
“Can I slurp on your balls, sir?” Avery asked, letting his voice gurgle moistly with the salty precum that coated his lips.
“Hmmm… Oh god, yeah… lick my balls, man, c’mon…” Bernard’s deep voice echoed. “I love that…” He was one of those people who didn’t really have the ability to whisper, Avery thought. He was so big that he had a deep, rumbling voice, which melded in with the hum of the fluorescent lights and the excited shouts outside by the campfire, so his voice wasn’t very disruptive even if it was quiet. It sort of melded in with the atmosphere of the campground.
Avery produced copious spit that flowed down Bernard’s shaft all the way to his heavy balls, which Avery slurped and licked loudly, his tongue working all over the hairy sac. He made his own saliva drip into puddles on the linoleum floor before running to the drain. Two showers still sprayed warm water, but Bernard had backed up to the wall, so he was out of the spray of both showers.
“Hmmm, ah yeah, man… it’s been a long time since, uh… someone licked my balls,” Bernard said. He very nearly said ‘a dude’ but stopped himself because he wasn’t ready to admit he’d messed with a man back in boot camp. But it was true, no girl had ever licked his balls for more than a few seconds because they were too big, too heavy, too low-hanging, and too hairy.
They were just plain too much.
Those traits were exactly why Avery loved them. Women don’t know how to value a hairy, sweaty ballsac. He slurped down every drop of shower-water that still clung to Bernard’s sac, and he slipped his head between those powerful legs too.
Soon, Avery was on the other side, kissing each of his work-weary asscheeks below which his hands had a death-grip on each other. “You ready to ram me?” Avery asked, as he licked the mighty meat of Bernard’s ass.
“Hell yeah…” Bernard murmured.
Avery slid back in front of Bernard on the smooth linoleum floor, arranging himself on all fours, with his ass high in the air. Bernard’s eyes opened wide.
There’s that ass again. It’s so tight. Tell him no. Tell him you only want to do mouth-stuff.
But his asshole beckoned, and Bernard didn’t want to back out. It was so warm and smooth, better than that girl’s chunky ass would have been, Bernard thought but would never say out loud. He blushed as though someone might have heard his thought. He was already kneeling behind Avery before he even decided to do it.
It was like his body was on autopilot. Even with his buddy in boot camp, Bernard had never done it like this. That had been fumbling in the dark, not an actual hardcore cock-in-ass ramrodding, like they were prisoners on lockdown.
“Aaaah…” He finally used his hands on Avery’s body. He gripped each of this thick bubble-butt cheeks and held on tight as he plowed in. Avery’s hole was tight and resisted at first, but with just a little push, Bernard’s cock sank in deeply.
“Shit!” Avery yelped. Bernard had a big dick, and there was a potent pinching pressure in Avery’s backside. Avery lifted one foot off the ground and howled.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, go on, keep going,” Avery said breathlessly as more and more of Bernard’s mature meat slid into him, ignoring his body’s instinctual resistance. Avery moaned, as his prostate came alive and sent waves of sensation through his body. He heard activity outside the showerhouse — he suspected some men had heard what was going on in here and left so they wouldn’t walk in on it. That made Avery laugh to himself even as he grunted in pain.
With a final potent push, Bernard’s entire cock was inside him. Avery cried out for more, as Bernard began pumping his hips back and forth. Bernard was shocked — few girls could take his dick in its entirety, especially without a lot of lube and extra time to adjust. Avery had simply taken it with a minimum of whimpering, and now he moaned with pleasure that grew with every thrust of Bernard’s cock in and out of him.
“Damn, ah, shit!” Avery cried out again. His hands tightened into claws that dug at the linoleum floor of the showerhouse. He had scooted forward enough that his face was in the warm shower-water, while Bernard stayed mostly dry.
Bernard couldn’t ever fuck a woman like this, she would say he was doing it too hard, too rough, not romantic enough. It was nice to be able to just plow without worrying about that. He gripped Avery’s asscheeks and held on tight, using all of his weight and his strength to ram his meat in and out. He was so aroused he even found his hands roaming around to Avery’s cock.
He had given a reacharound back in boot camp, and he did it again out of instinct or habit, or maybe just plain repressed desire. He didn’t realize he had done it until his hands gripped Avery’s thick shaft and felt it pulsating beneath his grasp. Cum flowed over his fingers, as his grasp instantly sent Avery over the edge to his climax. It was hot and sticky, and it made Bernard focus his entire attention on that.
He was jacking a stranger off in the shower. He couldn’t believe it, but it didn’t slow him down any. He reached his own orgasm moments later, amid the frenzied moans arising from Avery’s throat. Jizz spurted out of both men, Avery’s puddling up near the drain it then flowed into while Bernard filled Avery’s ass with his creamy seed.
“Ah, shit, yeah, take it!”
Creamy cum sprayed deep into Avery’s ass. Avery had been just as surprised as Bernard about the sudden reacharound, but he certainly wasn’t about to complain. He just used both hands to support himself as he rammed his ass back and forth on Bernard’s studly cock.
More and more juices filled Avery up, turning into a frothy mess that dripped onto the floor of the showerhouse. The smell of funk was intense and potent, and it didn’t wash away even with the pair of showers still on.
Finally he was done. Bernard leaned back until his cock plopped out. Both men felt a surge of relief and an intense twinge of pleasure that dwindled slowly.
He sighed grandly. “Shit, man… I don’t even miss that girl.”
“Wanna sleep in my tent?” Avery asked, breathless and sweaty. He needed to take a whole nother shower, he thought with a laugh.
Bernard blushed and bit his lip. “I mean… I dunno…”
“How about this? It’s the red tent at the corner there by the campfire ring. You know where I mean…? The big one? You can just come in, so no one will know I’m already in there when you come in. You can just slide right in,” Avery said. “I’ll wake up if I’m already asleep.”
“Okay…” Bernard gulped.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be a ton of fun,” Avery said. He displayed his ass as Bernard backed out towards the changing area again. Avery stuck a finger in, brought some cum out and smeared it over his asscheek. “I’ll just get ready.”
Bernard grabbed his clothes and ran out. He didn’t even bother to get dressed first. His cock flopped between his legs as he tumbled out into the darkness. Luckily, nobody noticed.
Was he really going to sleep with that man tonight? He told himself no, but he had a feeling the answer was yes.
If I can’t find a woman, I’ll go back to him. But I’ll really try. For real. I won’t just wait a few minutes and then go there. Sir, no, sir.